


Twelve Times Damned, Twelve Times Hopeful

by hafital



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky is a super babysitter, Canon compliant through Age of Ultron, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Found Family, M/M, Multi, No Bartons were harmed in the writing of this story, No Spoilers, Polyamory, bucky barnes to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafital/pseuds/hafital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were on the street when the voice came through comms. It went to all of them. They could all hear. </p><p>“Steve,” said the voice. </p><p>Clint stopped, turning to Rogers and Wilson at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Rogers raised his hand up to his helmet and looked at the surrounding buildings, turning in a circle. “Bucky?” he asked. “Is that--Where are you?”</p><p>“Steve,” said the voice again, and Clint now knew it belonged to James Barnes. “It’s an ambush, Steve. Get the hell out of there.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set after Age of Ultron, but doesn't try to connect with Civil War. I think I should probably warn for some violent situations involving children, but only bad guys are permanently hurt in the story. 
> 
> Thank you to Killabeez for the beta!

They were on the street when the voice came through comms. It went to all of them. They could all hear. 

“Steve,” said the voice. 

Clint stopped, turning to Rogers and Wilson at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. All three of them were in uniform, having been called to the location by an anonymous tip citing a potential Hydra base in the basement of a building in downtown Austin. 

Rogers raised his hand up to his helmet and looked at the surrounding buildings, turning in a circle. “Bucky?” he asked. “Is that--Where are you?”

“Steve,” said the voice again, and Clint now knew it belonged to James Barnes. “It’s an ambush, Steve. Get the hell out of there.”

Just in time, Rogers raised his shield and Wilson expanded his wings, covering Clint as machine gun fire ripped through the air. Multiple black SUVs approached from all directions, tires shrieking to a sudden halt as masked and armed men spilled from each car. Civilians scattered, running away.

“Falcon,” yelled Clint. “Take me up.”

Wilson grabbed hold of him and they rose in the air. Through comms, Clint heard Rogers contacting Natasha, notifying her of the ambush. She and Rhodes were two hundred miles away at Fort Ellington. 

“Leave me here,” said Clint, pointing to the rooftop. “Get back to Cap.”

Wilson dropped him then dove back down.

Clint steadied his stance, aiming multiple arrows. The Hydra STRIKE team fell one by one but there were more right behind. The fighting intensified, bearing down hard on Cap and Falcon, cornered on the intersection of Congress and 9th, the Texas Capitol just a few blocks away. 

They were outgunned. Falcon was doing a helluva job, redirecting civilians, swooping and diving and taking out droves of men, but they wouldn’t last long like this. 

“Cap?” said Clint. “How you doing?”

“Just peachy,” answered Rogers, using his shield to knock down a hostile that had managed to get him in a headlock, then throwing it at the assault vehicles firing at the building. Sparks flew; the vehicle windshield shattered. 

The fighting paused, then six armored tanks rumbled up the avenue, turning their cannons as one and pointing at the Captain. 

Falcon dove in, grabbing Cap, flying away just as the cannons boomed, turning the spot where the Captain had stood into rubble. 

“Natasha,” said Clint, searching the skies for the quinjet and hoping like hell she was going to drop down from the clouds any second. “We’ve got six tanks here. In Austin, Texas, for crying out loud. Give me good news.”

“Rhodey’s about five minutes out. We’re just behind him.”

Clint cursed, aiming his frustrations at a line of Hydra soldiers spilling from the tanks. Wilson was evading fire, but carrying the Captain was seriously hampering his movements. Five minutes was an eternity.

“Circle around,” ordered Rogers. “Drop me on that lead tank. Then join Hawkeye. Wait for the others.”

“Like hell,” said Wilson.

“That’s an order, Falcon.” Cap’s voice was calm, but there was absolute authority behind it. Clint heard Wilson yell through his teeth as he dove, wings closed in close, before dropping the Captain and somersaulting away, laying down cover fire even as he rose higher in the air toward the rooftop where Clint stood. 

Clint also kept firing until he was down to two arrows. “Shit, fuck,” he cursed, feeling a somewhat petty glee since Rogers was too busy to notice. He ran for a different vantage point, quickly looking around for inspiration that would somehow help them get out of this in one piece. 

But Steve Rogers wasn’t Captain America for nothing. Clint whistled under his breath as Rogers single-handedly commandeered one tank and turned it to fire on three others, disabling those in turn before he had to jump free as the remaining tanks fired on him. Rogers braced for impact, holding his shield up. Even from all the way up on the roof, Clint could hear the Captain’s yells as he took the full brunt of firepower. 

“Got any bright ideas?” asked Wilson, slightly out of breath as he landed next to Clint on the rooftop. 

Clint looked at him. Wilson was shiny with sweat, and he saw desperate hope there. With the Captain occupied as he was, Clint was next in command. Not taking his eyes of Wilson, Clint spoke into comms. “Rhodes, you better not be late. Come in hot, give ’em everything.”

He heard Rhodes copy as he turned to Wilson. “Take us in,” he said, readying the first of his two remaining arrows. “Right in front of that tank.”

Wilson lifted them into the air, then dove. The tank’s cannon swiveled to point at them. Clint had moments to calculate. He aimed, and fired, the arrow flying straight and sure down the barrel of the cannon. A moment later it exploded. 

***

In the quinjet, returning to headquarters, Clint let Wilson and Rhodes clap him hard on the back even as he half-heartedly fended them off. 

“Man,” said Wilson, grinning broadly, flush with relief. “I can’t believe it. I thought we were goners for sure. Did you see it?” He turned to Rhodes.

“Yes, I saw it. Most of it. You guys left nothing for me to do, after all that rush. Seriously,” said Rhodes, his smile belying his grudging tone. “That was impressive. Did you know that would happen?”

Clint shrugged, but truth be told he was pleased with their praise. “Come on, guys. You know how it is. Flying by the seat of my pants out there.”

“Well,” said Wilson with his hand still on Clint’s shoulder. “You’re my new hero. Sorry, Cap. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Rogers, dryly but with a smile. The Captain lay in the medical bay, resting on his elbows with his suit cut lengthwise up his right leg to expose the bloodied wound on his thigh, the only serious injury from the day’s events.

“I knew there was a reason I kept him around,” said Natasha from where she was treating the Captain’s leg. “Clint,” she said with a jerk of her head, calling him to her side. “Help me out here.”

Wilson and Rhodes moved away, still talking and going over the finer points of the fight. Clint stepped over to the Captain’s other side, readying the injector with antibiotics and grabbing a handful of bandages. 

“Hey, Clint.” Rogers’s voice was quiet. “Good work. Thanks.”

Clint grinned, turning Rogers’s head to place the injector on the side of his neck, hearing the compression hiss. “Anytime, Cap.”

“So,” said Natasha, looking at Rogers and then at Clint. “James Barnes. Any idea how he tapped into our comms?”

Clint was looking closely at Rogers. He was stone-faced and slightly flushed, but that could have been from the fight.

“Any ideas why a simple recon mission turned into an urban war zone?” countered Rogers. His tone was light, but Clint could tell he was pissed as hell. 

“We all know Hydra’s got it bad for you, Cap,” said Natasha.

“Yeah, but didn’t this seem excessive?” asked Clint. “They were gunning for him extra hard. Any ideas?”

“Several,” said Rogers. “None of them very comforting.”

“Let’s hear ‘em,” said Natasha, slapping the bandage onto Rogers’s thigh, making him wince. 

“Wanna bet who comes forward to claim responsibility? And don’t say Hydra. Think about how this is going to look in the press: the Avengers, caught with their pants down, and some new, never-before-heard-of threat. It won’t look good for us,” said Rogers, and Clint saw Natasha purse her lips. “Although,” added Rogers with a nod at Clint, “I’d bet my shield Hawkeye here threw a wrench in the plans. He’s going to come off as the hero today, well deserved.”

“Whoops,” said Clint. 

“You also caught that sneak Sanders last week and disrupted a significant cash flow operation. Careful Clint, all joking aside, you may not want Hydra’s attention on you that much,” added Rogers.

Clint sighed. “Should I not do my job?”

Rogers shook his head. “No. Just don’t want six tanks pointed at you. That’s all.”

“Copy that,” said Clint, catching Natasha’s gaze as he helped Rogers up to standing.

“Are we not going to discuss Barnes at all?” asked Natasha. 

Clint could feel Rogers tense in his arms. “What do you want me to do?” asked Rogers. “I’m already looking for him.”

“Nat,” said Clint. “However he did it, his warning probably saved our lives.”

“Seconds’ warning,” she said. 

“You know the difference one second can make,” said Clint. 

She bit her lip. They all moved awkwardly together as Rogers tested his weight on his injured leg. “I don’t like it,” she said.

“Well, truth be told,” said Clint. “Neither do I. But right now, I’m damned grateful to him.”

As he accompanied Rogers to one of the flight seats, Rogers squeezed his shoulder in thanks. Clint patted him on his back, and hoped, wherever he was, that Barnes knew how indebted they were. 

~~~

 

It had taken six months to shadow the Avengers, finally tapping into their comm systems. Bucky had started with Falcon who was the most visible of them all, then Rhodes, then Steve. He hadn’t tried to tail Black Widow -- too dangerous. And he was wary of the Maximoff girl’s enhanced abilities. He’d also not bothered with the individual they called the Vision, it being next to impossible to catch him on the streets. He’d left Barton for last, thinking he’d be the easiest, but tailing and tracking him had taken nearly three weeks, almost getting caught several times. Bucky had gotten there in the end though. Through Steve’s comm, he’d gained access to the Avengers headquarters systems, and discovered he wasn’t the only one watching.

It had taken another three months for Bucky to backtrack the trace and get partial access to the Hydra faction shadowing the Avengers. Decentralized as Hydra was, he knew this was only one piece of the puzzle, but it was better than nothing. 

He watched the watchers. 

In his hidey-hole, he lay back and closed his eyes, listening as the Avengers began winding down from their mission, and heard the Widow’s concerns about his access to their comms. He heard Barton as well, heard his gratitude, and then he listened to Steve talking casually with Rhodes and Sam Wilson. He listened to every word spoken. Soon, they would go off comms and it would be a long stretch of silence until they all came back on again. He had video, and could watch their movements at headquarters, and could track them outside of headquarters through GPS. But it wasn’t the same as hearing their voices. 

He didn’t do it for pleasure. He wasn’t a peeping tom, and didn’t intrude into their private lives. But he liked the intimacy of their voices in his ear. It made him feel like he was part of them. 

When the comms went off, he switched back to monitoring Hydra and the fallout from the failed op in Austin. Hydra was angered, foiled again, discussing what their next course of action would be. 

Bucky watched type scroll across his screen: 

_Perhaps it’s time we shift focus._  
_Who has the most to lose?_  
_We take out the heart, we take out the entire team._

He had no sense of time, but continued to monitor his screen as he kept one eye on the GPS dots representing the different Avengers. It was only when he saw the dots move apart that he knew the day was ending and that it was night again. The dots that were Steve and Wilson stayed at headquarters, but the dots that were Rhodes and Barton traveled separately. As happened every time Barton left headquarters, his GPS dot winked out of existence before reaching its destination. 

~~~

Light still shone from the second floor. Clint paused on the porch, one hand on the door. Some sixth sense caused him to straighten up and look around. It was dark, but the moon and stars gave off enough light that he could make out the shape of the barn and the jumble of random equipment and toys left in the yard. The trees rustled in the breeze. 

Something had him restless and not knowing what it was made the space between his shoulder blades itch. Sighing, he opened the door, stepping in without making any sound. He’d taken three steps into the living room before Laura came rushing down the stairs. “You’re home!”

Clint relaxed. “How do you always know?”

Laura was smiling, shrugging. “I know when you’re home.”

He made a non-committal noise, but gathered her in his arms for a kiss hello. She smelled good, like home, and he inhaled deeply. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, with a quick, curious smile. “And you?”

“The kids asleep?” he deflected, knowing he could only delay her questions for a short while. 

“You’re just in time,” she said, as she continued to look at him. “They finally went to bed about ten minutes ago. Nathaniel’s sleeping, but he’ll wake in a few minutes.”

They went up the stairs together. “With that Nathaniel caterwaul,” said Clint. His youngest had recently discovered that he had a pair of lungs and could use them. 

“He’s got octaves now.”

They laughed softly, and he squeezed her hand before heading first for his daughter’s room. Lila was half asleep and lying on her side, but she roused enough to sit up with a shy smile and give Clint a hug and a murmured, “Daddy.”

He then stepped across the hall to Cooper’s room. The lights were out, but Clint saw the bundle on the bed shift and the glow of light from under the blankets. 

Tiptoeing quietly, he pounced and tickled his son who yelped in surprise and then laughed as he pushed Clint away. “Stop, Dad.”

“Serves you right,” said Clint, sitting on the bed. “Don’t let your mom catch you reading under the covers. What have you got here, anyway?”

“Just an old comic,” said Cooper, rubbing at his nose and making room. It was a Hulk comic Natasha left, the cover sporting the big green monster brandishing his fist, grimacing at a line of enemies. 

“What’s this one about?” Clint held the comic in front of the flashlight, turning the pages. 

“The Hulk is captured and imprisoned by Count Kwaad but he breaks out and then this family hides him in their garage but when the Count finds him there he has to hulk out to protect them.”

“Kwaad, huh?” asked Clint, torn between amusement and a vague desire to rip the comic book to shreds. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty dumb.”

“It sounds dumb.” He placed the comic on the bedside table. “You can finish it tomorrow. Give me a hug.”

Cooper sat up to hug him. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

But Cooper lay back down on his bed, raising one hand to touch Clint’s uniform. He explored the different textures and the seams binding the leather together. He touched the arm guard. Clint usually tried to limit his kids’ exposure to his world and his job, but since Ultron, the cat was basically out of the bag. Normally he would have changed before heading home, but the debrief had taken longer than usual and he’d been anxious to see his family. He let Cooper look his fill. The day would come when he’d teach Cooper how to shoot, but he had to get on Laura’s good side first. 

“Dad, are you okay?”

Just then Nathaniel’s cries filled the entire house. Cooper groaned and covered his ears.

“Jesus, that boy can yell,” said Clint.

“How am I expected to sleep?” asked Cooper, so serious that Clint started laughing. “Dad!”

“You can sleep just fine. Come on. Give me that light.” Clint turned off the flashlight and set it beside the comic on the bedside table. He kissed Cooper’s forehead, lingering for a moment. Nathaniel’s cries were already quieting down. “’Night, son.” 

After the darkness of Cooper’s room, the hallway light was piercing. For some reason, he breathed in relief when he saw Laura in her chair nursing their son. She raised her eyes, taking in his appearance. He knew she’d picked up on his fear but didn’t say anything. He went over to look at Nathaniel, happily sucking away. 

“Greedy bastard,” said Clint. 

Laura laughed. “He’ll be done in a few minutes. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clint knew an order when he heard one. 

Suppressing the urge to check the perimeter of his property, he took off his uniform and showered. Laura wasn’t in their bedroom when he got out, and he stood by the window looking out to the sea of grass and trees. 

Laura returned, shifting as she put her arms around him. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning so he could put his arms around her as well. “Just an odd feeling.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Honestly. It was a good day, actually. Did you know you’re married to a bona-fide hero?”

“I suspected.”

“Saved Cap’s life today.”

She squeezed harder. He sighed and then sat down on the bed. She rested her hands on the bare skin of his shoulders. 

“Do you feel safe here?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Clint, now you’re actually scaring me.” Her eyes were big, a small wrinkle between her brows.

“Do you?”

She searched his face. “Yes,” she said, with a touch of a smile. “I love our home.”

Somehow, her assurance helped him feel better. He scowled. “Sorry, honey. I’m just out of sorts. The Captain has this… friend. Old friend. James Barnes--”

“I know about Sergeant Barnes.”

“Er, you do?”

“Basic history, Hawkeye.”

“Right. Okay. Well, anyway. He broke into our comm systems today just in time to warn us of an ambush.”

“Wait, you mean, he’s alive? He’s not dead?”

“No,” said Clint. “He’s not dead.”

He could see her working through it, getting to the important part. “He saved your life?”

“He saved all our lives.”

“And this has you worried?” she asked.

Clint couldn’t quite put it into words, the source of his unease. It was partly that he didn’t know Barnes and didn’t know his motivation, but if he had to pinpoint it, he guessed it had more to do with what Rogers had said, about drawing too much attention. For a while there, in most firefights with Hydra, he’d always been targeted first, considered easy pickings, or easier pickings, compared to the other Avengers, but that had seemed to stop. He had almost been completely ignored today, and for some reason that made him more nervous than if it had been him instead of Rogers facing down six tanks. At least with six tanks he knew what he was dealing with.

“I don’t know,” he said, then shrugged, looking around at their bedroom. “It’s probably nothing, but maybe I should really get out. Retire Hawkeye.” 

Laura snorted. “Yeah right. You tried that already. That lasted, what, four months?”

“You got tired of me. Practically pushed me out of the house.”

“I did not,” she said, but she was laughing now, and pushed him down onto the bed. They lay side by side. “I knew you couldn’t rest knowing your friends were out there fighting.”

He sighed. She was right. 

“You know what else I think?” she asked, rolling over to straddle him, pinning him between her hands. “I think the kids are asleep, and my husband is home after a very long day.”

“Hm, smart woman.”

She bent to kiss him, but just as he opened his mouth to hers, a loud crying shattered the quiet of the house. Clint jumped, surprised. “Christ,” he said, then started chuckling as Laura collapsed in laughter. 

~~~

In the middle of the night, Laura Barton woke from a sound sleep. A noise had woken her, but as she lay next to her husband, his warm, naked body nestled against hers, she couldn’t hear anything but the breeze murmuring quietly outside their window. The baby monitor on the bedside table was silent, the little green light indicating it was on and functioning as normal. 

Careful not to wake Clint, she rose from the bed, pulled on her nightgown, and stepped into the hallway, making her way by instinct to the baby’s room. She pushed the door open. From the light of the moon she saw what looked like a man standing next to Nathaniel’s crib, tall and silent. Fear spiked through her body. She opened her mouth to scream but in the next instant the wind caused the trees outside to shift and more moonlight flooded in revealing no one in the room but herself and Nathaniel, sleeping on his back, mouth pursed in an imitation of sucking. Only the small bookshelf with children’s books and bins filled with toys stood innocently against the wall.

Her hand was over her mouth, and she felt a rush of nausea from the sudden adrenaline. Breathing slowly, she went to stand next to the crib, placing one hand on Nathaniel’s warm, rounded belly. It was almost dawn. He would wake soon, hungry, so she sat in the nursing chair and waited.

~~~

A few days later, the phone rang during breakfast. Cooper and Lila were fighting. Nathaniel was working on his motor skills, eating one Cheerio at a time and giving his father a watery smile every few minutes. Clint grinned at the baby, sipping his coffee, and pretended to ignore his older children. They were fighting over who got to read the Hulk comic.

At the sound of his cell phone, Laura looked over from the kitchen.

“Y’ello,” he said, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Nat, hearing her usual sardonic tone of amusement, which meant whatever she was calling about wasn’t an immediate threat. He gave Laura a wink, so she knew it wasn’t an emergency.

“No, you’re not.”

Nat chuckled. “We got a lead on the Austin incident. Thought you might want in, if Laura can spare you, of course.”

“If Laura can spare me?” said Clint, looking at Laura who made a face at him but then nodded as she turned to separate Cooper and Lila before the comic book was torn in half. “Yes, she can spare me.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Copy that.” He hung up. “Duty calls,” he said. 

Before Laura could say anything, Lila stood up from the table and marched over to him. “Will you be home for dinner?” she asked, very serious. 

“I think so,” he said, kneeling down to her level. 

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Is Aunt Nat going with you?”

“She sure is.”

Lila took another moment to consider. “All right. You can go,” she said, with a well-practiced, imperious nod that was a frightening mix of Laura and Natasha, before turning back to the kitchen table. 

Deeply amused, he looked away before he started laughing. 

“Well,” said Laura, taking his arm. “She has spoken. Okay, Cooper, Lila, if you’re done eating, put on socks and shoes, please. And no complaining,” she added over Cooper’s groans. “Cooper, watch Nathaniel for me.”

She followed Clint upstairs, standing to the side as he got his gear and changed. 

“I could ask if you really have to go,” she said. 

He glanced at her, tugging the arm guard into place. “I can call Nat. She’d understand. They all would.”

Laura studied him for a moment, then stepped closer so she could tug at his tunic, finished zipping it up. “And leave them to face whatever it is without you? I care about them, too.”

“I care about you more.”

She smiled, then leaned against him. They went downstairs together. “Say good-bye to your father,” she said to the children.

He picked up the baby and kissed his damp cheek, then put his arm around Lila, hugging her close. Cooper didn’t get up from the couch where he had claimed the Hulk comic once again. He wasn’t looking at Clint.

He saw Laura about to say something, but Clint shook his head. Handing Nathaniel over, he stood behind the couch and bent down to kiss the crown of Cooper’s head, ruffling his hair. “Look after your brother and sister for me, okay?” 

Halfway down the porch steps, he heard running behind him and made a soft sound of surprise as Cooper collided against his side. “Bye, Dad.”

Clint held him for a moment, then let go. He could hear the quinjet approaching and a second later it emerged from the clouds, spinning around to land on the small hilltop. “Go on, get back in. Be good, now.”

He stopped at the fence and looked back, just able to see his family through the window. Cooper and Lila waved, and he waved back. 

Forty minutes later, as the quinjet began its decent over rural Texas, a now familiar voice came through over comms.

“Steve,” said Barnes.

Everyone froze. Steve actually looked around as if Barnes might be hiding in the quinjet. “Bucky?”

“Steve,” he said, and Clint noticed that he sounded in distress. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how they found out.”

“Bucky, slow down. What are you talking about? Found out what?”

“Hydra. They’ve been searching for it for a while. They knew there was something.”

“Searching for what?” asked Natasha and there was an answering silence over the comm line. 

After a moment, Barnes spoke. “Barton,” he said, and Clint felt ice in his veins. “They found the farm. They’re here now.”

Clint was aware that the others had moved into action. He heard Natasha ordering the jet to turn around. Steve was yelling, asking questions. How fast could the jet get back? What were their options?

But Clint knew how fast the quinjet could fly, and knew it wouldn’t be fast enough. He was stuck on that last image he had of his family, framed in the window, waving. 

“Clint. Hey Clint.” Natasha slapped his cheek hard enough to sting. “Call them,” she said, and handed him his phone.

~~~

Laura was balancing Nathaniel on one hip while struggling to help a disinterested Lila put on her coat and shoes when her phone rang. She’d left it on the coffee table. Glancing over at it, she could see Clint’s face on the screen. It seemed the time it took to get ready to leave the house increased every day.

“Lila,” she said, holding in her frustration. “Help me out here. Stop reading that thing and put your shoes on. Cooper, are you ready? We’re leaving in ten minutes, whether you guys have your shoes on or not.”

Cooper was straddling the backrest of the couch, riding it like a horse, but he at least had his coat and shoes on. Laura put Nathaniel down in his bouncer before picking up her phone. He immediately started pounding on the noise makers, gurgling happily. 

Cooper stopped moving, sitting still on the backrest, his head cocked to one side. “Mom?” he asked.

“What, honey?” she said as she picked up her phone. “Wait a second, Daddy’s calling.”

“Mom…” said Cooper again, louder, raising a finger to point out the window. 

She sighed, pressing the phone to her ear. “On second thought,” she said, not bothering with ‘hello’. “I do need you here? Clint?”

Clint was yelling in her ear just as Cooper yelled, “MOM!” and the next thing she knew the front windows shattered inward and a swarm of masked men with machine guns flooded into the house. 

Laura cried out, dropping her phone as she grabbed both Cooper and Lila closer to her. The masked men pointed their weapons at her and at the children. 

“Come quietly, and no one gets hurt,” said one of the masked men. 

Two men reached to take hold of Cooper and Lila, and Laura screamed as she placed herself in front of her children. “Get away. Don’t touch them.”

The men ignored her, grabbing Cooper’s arm. She kicked and fought, Lila squeezing her leg. From a distance, Laura though she heard Clint yelling. The phone had dropped to the floor. 

Nathaniel’s loud cry cut through the air. She looked over at him, bouncing in his bouncer left near the coffee table, and tried to get to him but someone grabbed her arm, ripping both Lila and Cooper from her. She felt the cold press of a gun at her temple, struggled to get free but stopped when another masked men bent down to look at Nathaniel, his gun aimed at Nathaniel’s head. The baby cried harder and louder.

“Come quietly and no one gets hurt,” repeated the same man.

She panted, frightened beyond comprehension. The two men holding Cooper and Lila had pressed the barrels of their guns to their temples. Cooper’s face drained of color, but he was looking at her. So was Lila. Laura knew she would do whatever these men asked.

Before she could say anything, the men holding Cooper and Lila were shot in the middle of their foreheads, collapsing instantly to the ground. A half-second later, another gunshot rang out and the man holding a gun on Nathaniel dropped dead, followed by more gunfire. The rest of the men collapsed instantly. Laura barely had time to register what happened, rushing to gather Cooper and Lila. She saw a man, different from the others, unmasked but dressed in black leather with an exposed metal arm. He’d slung a machine gun onto his back and was lifting Nathaniel from his bouncer.

“Who are…” she started, then swallowed when the man looked at her. She knew his face. She knew it from long ago history lessons, and remembered Clint speaking of him just a few nights ago. “You,” she said, breathless.

Nathaniel, miraculously, had stopped crying as soon as Sergeant Barnes cradled him in his metal arm. The room was silent except for Lila’s muffled cries against Laura’s stomach. 

“There’s no time,” said Barnes. “There are more outside.”

Almost before he finished speaking, a second wave of masked men flooded in through the front door and busted windows. Without hesitation, still holding Nathaniel, Barnes shot one man dead before engaging in a one-armed fight with another. She heard the man’s neck snap. Barnes spun, threw a knife, and a third man clawed at his neck, blood gushing over his fingers as he collapsed to the floor. 

Laura choked on her instinct to cry out, huddling low to the floor with Cooper and Lila, covering them with her arms. But she looked over at Barnes, fear for Nathaniel squeezing her heart. 

Seamlessly, Barnes shifted Nathaniel from one arm to the other, positioning himself in front of Laura and the children, using the metal arm as a kind of shield, blocking the sudden machine gun firing. She couldn’t help but cry out, making herself and the kids even smaller, flattening down closer to the floor. She heard even more gunfire and then silence. 

“We have to move,” said Barnes. “More will come.”

Laura lifted her head, and gasped as Barnes handed her Nathaniel. The baby was fine, completely unhurt, staring at her with big dark blue eyes like his father’s. She held him to her chest. The ringing of the gunfire faded and she turned her attention to Cooper and Lila, touching them all over. Lila had her eyes half-closed, and was very pale. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” she asked Cooper. 

“We have to move,” said Barnes again. He was standing between them and the windows and open door, looking outside. 

“Is there… is there a way out?” she asked, trying to take hold of Lila, still holding Nathaniel. Barnes picked up discarded machine guns and other weapons, then stepped in and lifted Lila in his arms, ushering them toward the kitchen.

“No. They have the house surrounded. The children are too vulnerable to make it through. We stand ground until extraction. Here,” he said, upturning the kitchen table onto its side, and positioning them behind it, their backs to the china cabinet.

The kitchen windows went all the way around except for this one area. Barnes placed Lila at Laura’s feet, then opened a bottom cabinet and emptied it. Gently, he pushed Lila inside, then took Nathaniel from her arms and made Lila hold him tight.

“Stay low,” he said, moving to the fridge and easily pushing it to create an additional barrier. “Arm yourselves.”

As he turned, she saw blood dripping down his side. “You’re bleeding.” She reached for a hand towel, pressed it against the wound, but then saw he was bleeding from multiple places: a deep cut on his flesh arm, a bullet hole high on the side of his chest, another in his thigh. Her hands shook as she pressed against the wound on his side.

He placed his hand over hers. She looked up into his eyes for the first time. His eyes were also blue, and looked deep into hers. “Stay low,” he said again, gently tugging the towel from her hands and giving her a handgun, wrapping her shaking fingers around the handle. 

He took a paring knife from the counter and gave it to Cooper who had been standing silent next to her. 

“You take this,” said Barnes to Cooper.

Barnes moved Cooper’s hand to show him how to hold and move the knife, then pushed him down low and away from the windows. There were noises coming from the living room, and Laura felt sick with fear as she crouched on the floor.

“Lila,” she said, looking at her daughter’s small face framed by the cabinet. Lila was trying very hard not to cry. “It’s okay, honey. Everything’s going to be fine.” She reached into the cabinet and squeezed Lila’s arm, touched her face. “It’s going to be okay. Mommy’s not going anywhere. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

She turned just in time to scream as another masked man burst through the sundeck doors. Barnes sliced the man’s throat. He took one of the machine guns and fired it through the window, then turned to block more men coming from the front of the house. 

It all became a blur of noise and dust and screaming. A man leapt over the table and grabbed Laura by her hair, but she fired her gun and he fell back. Barnes swiftly turned from where he was fighting three others and shot the man dead. Cooper clutched at his knife, stabbing a man in the shoulder who’d managed to get past Barnes. Laura kicked him away, keeping Cooper behind her until Barnes picked their assailant up and threw him bodily across the room.

Cooper had dirt stuck to tear tracks and he was breathing hard, clutching at the paring knife until his knuckles turned white.

Laura didn’t know how long this could continue or how long it had been. It seemed like days passed but it could only have been a few minutes. Fifteen at the most. Dust and plaster fell from the walls and roof, machine guns spraying chucks of wood and drywall everywhere. Then, she heard a loud BOOM and the house shook. Another explosion followed right behind. She thought the roof would cave down on them. She thought they’d all die in the rubble. 

Through the haze, she saw Barnes stagger with a knife stuck in his stomach. She knew, instinctively, that he was hampered by the limited space and the need to protect them. He fell to his knees, still fighting, dragging down one of the men with his metal hand around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Barnes stumbled up but swayed on his feet, then fell back down to his knees.

As if from far away, Laura heard a high-pitched whine before the gold and red Iron Man suit flew into the house, shooting at the remaining men. 

Iron Man stood next to Barnes’s huddled figure. “At ease, soldier,” said the familiar voice of Tony Stark. “I can take it from here.”

Barnes collapsed again, looked up at Stark, then fell unconscious. 

~~~

Bucky was slow to wake, hearing what he thought was the sound of waves crashing on a beach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard waves. 

Hearing returned first, then movement. He shifted and felt a dull pain radiate from pretty much every part of his body. He took a moment, keeping his eyes closed, attempting to catalog the different aches and pains and identify them: cracked ribs, a dozen small to mid-sized cuts, bullet wound to his left thigh, another just below his right lung. He’d been stabbed to the right of his stomach -- that was the deepest pain, and he was fairly certain the wound must have required surgery. There were further injuries, but he couldn’t be sure. 

He heard a noise, a sort of half-whisper, half-song, and realized that he had actually been hearing the noise for a while but hadn’t fully registered it. 

Bucky opened his eyes. He was in a large room with light blue walls, filled with typical bedroom furniture. A chair had been left close to the right side of the bed. One wall of the room had floor to ceiling windows, with the curtains drawn. He could see that it was daytime. 

The sound caught his attention again and, with difficulty, he pushed himself up to look around. On the floor between the bed and the window sat a girl of about six or seven years of age, busy with several coloring books and sketch pads, an array of crayons and markers in front of her. She was humming softly to herself. 

“Hello,” he said, and the girl yelped, crawling away to hide at the end of the bed. 

Bucky lay back down, but pulled his body up a little higher against the headboard so he wasn’t lying flat. After a moment he was rewarded with a pair of eyes peeping over the edge of the mattress. 

They stared at each other until the girl stood up to her full height. “You’re awake,” she said.

He thought that was obvious, so he didn’t answer. 

She cocked her head to one side. “Are you still sick?”

Uncertain what to say to this bright-eyed child, he furrowed his brow. She didn’t seem to notice, or to take offense at his silence. Instead, she moved back to her coloring books, picking up a few sheets full of brightly colored pictures. 

“Do you want a sticker?” she asked.

He considered her and the sheets of pictures in her hands, and then nodded slightly. 

“You can pick which one you want,” she offered, spreading the sheets next to each other on the bed. 

The little pictures were illustrations of the Avengers, but mixed in with the figures of Captain America, the Hulk, Iron Man and the others were several animals, as well as hearts of differing sizes and colors, vines of flowers, and decorative leaves. It was the strangest assortment of images. He saw Spanish words under the images: _El Capitan Gringo. El Increíble Hulk._

“Where did you get these?” he asked. 

She shrugged. “They were here already. Mom said I could have them.”

He wanted to ask where “here” was, but pointed to a sticker of Hawkeye with _Ojo de Halcon_ in type underneath. 

She peeled the sticker free and held it out to him. “On your arm,” she said, matter-of-factly. 

Hesitating only slightly, he pushed his metal arm closer to her. She moved the sticker around, judging the best place to put it, finally sticking it below and to the left of the star. “You can have another one,” she said, generously. 

He pointed to _El Capitan Gringo_. She peeled that one off and stuck it next to Hawkeye. “Which one’s your favorite?” he asked.

“Hulk!” she said, and peeled off a sticker of the Hulk, putting it on the other side of Captain America. “There. That’s better. Do you want me to draw you a picture?”

He didn’t think he should say no. “Okay.”

She bent down to crouch by her supplies, chattering away about a cousin named Simon who broke his arm and had to wear a cast, and he let everyone draw pictures on the cast. Bucky realized that she thought his arm was broken, and that the metal was a kind of cast. 

“It’s not…” he started, then stopped at the look of concentration on her face as she took several colored markers and plopped next to him on the bed. 

With her tongue stuck between her teeth, she began to draw with a green marker on his metal arm. The marker didn’t work very well with the metal, but she didn’t seem to mind. He held his arm still for her. She was drawing flowers.

Someone outside the room called, and it took all of Bucky’s effort not to jerk suddenly. “Lila, where are you? Mom says it’s lunch t--”

In the doorway to the room stood the Barton boy, gaping open-mouthed at Bucky and the girl. “Mom!” called the boy, not moving from the door.

“We’ve been made, Lila,” he said so only Lila could hear, and Lila smiled at him. 

She looked over her shoulder at her brother, then rolled her eyes. “That’s just Cooper.”

And now Bucky had the boy’s name, too. A moment later, the mother showed up behind Cooper. “You’re awake!” she said, looking at Bucky.

Still thinking this was obvious, Bucky didn’t answer. 

“Lila,” she said, moving into the room. “What have I said about coming in here? You know you’re not allowed. Get your things. Come on. Lunch is on the table.”

Lila protested. “I’m not bothering him. Am I?” She turned to ask him, then back at her mother. “Why can’t I stay?”

Bucky remained quiet, glancing between mother and daughter. Seeing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere pleading, Lila sighed heavily, sliding off the bed and gathering her coloring books. She announced forcefully, “I’m not hungry,” as she marched out of the room.

“Cooper, you, too,” said Barton’s wife.

Bucky watched Cooper move outside of the room, but he stayed in the doorway. He still had the paring knife Bucky had made him use during the fight, the blade wrapped in paper towels and stuck through a belt loop. 

Bucky sat up further on the bed, conscious of his bare chest, though it was mostly wrapped in bandages. She seemed hesitant and unsure. “What should I call you? Sergeant Barnes?”

He wrinkled his brow. No one had called him by name in years. Except Steve.

“Or Barnes? James?” she asked.

He understood those were his names, but they sounded strange to him. He shrugged. “You can call me whatever you want.”

She smiled a little, but it was a sad smile. “All right. I’ll call you James.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry if Lila woke you.” Her eyes dropped to his arm. She seemed embarrassed. “I hope she didn’t bother you too much. Let me get something to clean that up. I wouldn’t want it to get, um, damaged.”

“It’s all right,” he said, not knowing how to set her at ease. 

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing much can hurt the arm, ma’am.”

She colored as she looked down to the floor. “Please, call me Laura.”

He didn’t answer, unable to bring himself to say her name. Instead, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked out the window, grateful that he was wearing sleep pants. Through the curtains, he saw a clear blue sky stretching over a green, peaceful ocean. The room felt air-conditioned, but it was clearly very warm outside. “Where are we?”

“Safe house,” she said, with just a touch of wry amusement. “It belongs to Tony Stark. We’re somewhere in the Caribbean. He owns the whole island. There’s no one else here but us. Just this estate, no other people.”

He glanced at Cooper, who was still standing by the door, watching. Bucky listened, and thought he could hear Lila, and some other indistinct noise, but no one else. Carefully he stood up, testing his weight on the leg with the gunshot wound. “Where are…?”

“Steve and Clint wanted to be here when you woke, but they were called away. Most of the team is staying here while things are… They’re using this as an alternate base, for the time being.”

He suppressed a shiver. Laura immediately came forward, picking up a hooded sweatshirt from the dresser. With the ease of someone who spent a great deal of time dressing and undressing small children, she readied the sleeves for him. He met her eyes briefly, then shrugged into the sweatshirt. Everything hurt, but he was careful not to show it. 

“Thank you,” he said, and she quickly stepped back.

He heard again a strange rattling coming from outside the bedroom. With a glance at Laura, he made his way from the room, more curious than he cared to admit about this safe house. He was expecting a big, ostentatious mansion. Something with multiple floors and open atriums, curving staircases -- but the house was more ranch-style than anything else. Large, but all on one floor, spread out. The room he’d woken in opened to a common living space.

“Are you hungry? Maybe you should rest more? Sit down, I’ll bring you a tray,” asked Laura, who had followed him.

He shook his head. 

There were windows everywhere, looking out to a tranquil sun porch and then a beach beyond that. Palm trees swayed. Low tide. The brightness hurt his eyes.

“They’re on a mission? They left you here, alone?” he asked. He knew this was an isolated island, but that just meant if there was an attack, there was no easy way off. He very much wanted his communications equipment. He wanted to listen to the operation. And he couldn’t. He forced himself to maintain calm.

“Well, no,” she said. She twisted her hands, moving to adjust pillows on the couch and straightening piles of magazines and books. “There are security men here. They’ve been instructed to remain out of sight. And Mr. Stark’s… I think he calls them the Iron Legion. The drones. They are stationed all around the island.”

Bucky relaxed further. 

“And we have you,” she added, her voice just above a whisper. “You’re here.”

Her eyes were very bright. Just then, Lila came running over, carrying a picture, proudly showing it to him. It took him a moment to recognize himself, and that the four other figures in the drawing were Laura, Cooper, Lila, and the baby, each drawn in descending order by height. 

“Thank you,” he said, and Lila beamed. 

He heard the rattling sound again and several small grunts. Blocked by a set of couches, he hadn’t noticed the small penned off area. The baby was standing, holding onto the bars of the pen, pouting and stomping his feet. Barnes walked over to him, slowly crouching down and ignoring the pain of his wounds stretching. 

The baby smiled at him, pointing a wet finger. 

“He’s okay?” asked Bucky, turning to Laura, and to Cooper and Lila who were standing on either side of her. “You’re all okay?”

Laura was wiping at tears, trying to nod. From over her shoulder, Bucky saw movement, and there was suddenly several individuals making their way across the house. He recognized Barton in his Hawkeye gear, and just behind him, Steve. 

“Yes,” said Barton, answering for his wife. “They’re fine. Not a scratch on them.” Barton stopped next to Laura. He looked unshaven, with dark rings under his eyes. “Uh,” said Barton, shaking his head, clearing his throat. Then he stopped, and seemed unable to continue. 

The emotion Barton was showing was unsettling and made Bucky want to return to the bedroom and close the door. Barton held out a hand, and after a moment, Bucky took it. Barton squeezed hard, then let go, turning to his wife to hide his face.

“You’re awake,” said Steve. The other Avengers were silent behind him.

Bucky was beginning to wonder how long he’d been unconscious. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“For. Ever,” said Lila, with a dramatic sigh. 

There was ringing silence, then Laura pulled Lila to her and someone laughed, breaking the tension of the strange moment.

“Two days,” said Steve, stepping forward. Bucky took an instinctual step back, and Steve froze. 

To look at Steve was painful. Like looking at the beach outside, with the shining waves and the big blue sky. It made his eyes water. 

“It’s good to see you, Buck,” said Steve, and Bucky held himself still as Steve reached forward and gently touched his arm. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Steve,” he said, and Steve smiled.

After that, each of the Avengers came up to him and said hello. Some shook his hand. Cooper stayed close by, and Lila sat down on the floor beside him, continuing to draw her picture.

~~~

It was strange to sit with them in person and see them speaking instead of hearing their voices through a comm unit in his ear. It was strange to see their faces as they spoke to each other. 

They sat as a team at the large dining table. Present were Steve and Barton with Laura next to him, Rhodes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff. Tony Stark, along with the Vision, Maria Hill, and the Maximoff girl had remained in New York to keep an Avengers presence at headquarters, but were participating remotely, their faces and bodies projected as holograms.

Bucky sat opposite Steve and Barton, keeping his eyes averted and listening to the team discuss the takedown of the Hydra cell responsible for the attack on the Barton homestead. From where he sat, he could see the baby, Nathaniel, crawling around in his gated play area. 

Cooper was also sitting on the couch, and Lila had planted herself between Bucky and Romanoff, reading from a book. Bucky thought, vaguely, that the older children at least shouldn’t be present during the meeting, and he glanced at Laura. She seemed to understand. 

“They don’t like to be alone, not after… And honestly,” she added in almost a whisper while Steve was talking, glancing down at her hands. “It’s hard to be away from them right now, even just in the next room.”

He nodded to show he understood, watching as the baby tried to pull himself up onto the couch, falling on his backside with a plop. 

“The Vision has gone through the intel from today’s raid on the Hydra base in Texas,” said Steve. “It seems the activity there was, in part, a smokescreen for the attack on the farm. They must have been planning it for a while.” Steve shook his head and turned to Barton. “I was worried about this. My gut knew you’d gotten on their radar.”

Barton looked haggard. “They were…” he cleared his throat. “I take it, this cell existed specifically for this operation? Do we know who they reported to?”

“No,” said the hologram of the Vision. “But this last raid proved fruitful, and we have a few leads to follow that may help determine who orchestrated the attack. However, unfortunately this latest manifestation of Hydra is quite effective at decentralizing their information. All previous leads have been dead ends.”

“There has to be someone calling the shots,” said Tony. “What they did to Barton’s home? That was a hit. Over the top, maybe, but it was planned.”

“You think this was just one step in a larger operation?” asked Rhodes.

Tony’s holographic image shrugged. “Clearly something’s afoot. They’re tearing us apart in the press, and I’ve got congress so far up my ass, I’m expecting them to start paying rent any minute now. I know taking out Barton was the primary objective, but you don’t send a twenty man death squad to take out one woman and three kids, none of whom are trained in combat.”

“You do when you want to destroy the Avengers,” said Romanoff, and they all turned to look at her. “There’s no big mystery here. You take out Barton, his family… and you cut the heart out of this team. We all know it.” Her eyes were very bright as she spoke. Lila had climbed into her lap, still clutching her book but she was falling asleep.

“She’s right,” said Bucky, speaking for the first time but he kept his eyes on Nathaniel, who had now recruited several large toys to use as steps in his quest to climb the couch. “I was Hydra. I know how they think.”

Silence followed, palpable and heavy, as everyone stared at Bucky.

“What I want to know,” continued Natasha, looking full on at Bucky until he felt compelled to look at her in turn. “How long were you listening in on comms? And how did you get to the farm so quickly?”

Bucky didn’t answer, distracted by Nathaniel on the couch now trying to slide off over the side that wasn’t penned in. 

“You said, ‘They’re here now,’” she added. “When you let us know about the attack. You said, ‘here.” Not ‘there.’ We all heard you.”

More silence, then, Maria Hill spoke. “I can answer that, if Barnes is unwilling. A team of agents did multiple sweeps of the house, the barn, all of the land, making triple sure nothing nasty was left behind. They didn’t find it on the first sweep, or even the second. It’s well hidden. A secret walled off room in the barn. Very small, only big enough for a man to lie down in. The surveillance and computer equipment left there was destroyed.”

Bucky turned away from watching Nathaniel and faced the team. 

“You were living in my home?” asked Barton, and Bucky couldn’t tell if he was upset or angry. If anything Barton seemed mystified.

“No,” said Bucky. “I never stepped foot in the house, before the attack. Just the barn. I destroyed the equipment, in case Hydra--”

“How long?” interrupted Barton, voice rising.

“A couple of months.”

Barton swallowed, nodding with furrowed-brows. “Why?”

Bucky was trying to figure out his answer when he felt a tug on the fabric of the sleep pants he was still wearing. Looking down, he saw Nathaniel’s proud, gummy smile beaming at him. The baby had managed to climb down from the couch and crawl his way over and was now attempting to climb up Bucky’s leg. Without thinking, Bucky lifted the baby onto his lap. Nathaniel sighed happily, making baby noises. He was fascinated by Bucky’s arm, wrapping his two plump hands around the metal fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he answered, meeting Barton’s gaze.

“And the surveillance?” prompted Natasha.

“Nat, maybe now’s not the time,” said Steve.

“No,” said Romanoff. “I think we deserve to know.”

The truth was Bucky had no good answer for why he’d hacked into the Avenger’s comm systems. Not one that would satisfy Black Widow, in any case. Nathaniel was trying to put Bucky’s forefinger in his mouth. The metal self-sanitized, but Bucky still dipped his fingers into the glass of water on the table before letting Nathaniel grab it and start to gnaw. It was a strange sensation.

They were all waiting for his answer. Wilson, who had remained silent through most of the discussion, was smirking a little watching him and the baby. Barton’s dark eyes were still locked on his, but he now dropped his gaze to look at his son. Laura seemed worried, but she also smiled when Nathaniel looked around for her. 

“I couldn’t get any closer,” he said, finally. “I couldn’t…” He stopped to breath, adjusting his hold on Nathaniel balancing on his lap. “But once I was in, I saw that your systems were compromised.” 

The tension in the room went up another notch.

“And you didn’t think to tell us?” asked the Maximoff girl, who had also been silent for most of the evening.

“Why would he?” asked Wilson. “What reason would he have? And why didn’t we notice? How did we miss this?” Wilson moved in his seat and waving his hand to indicate everyone. “We’re the Avengers, for Christ’s sake. Hydra’s listening in, _again_ , coming after one of our own, and the only one who had our back was Barnes.”

Another long silence followed. Then, Barton spoke. “Wilson’s right,” he said. “Natasha.” And Romanoff turned to look at Barton. “If he’d come to us sooner.” Barton stopped, pinched his nose, getting his breathing under control. “It would have been too soon. We would have lost any advantage, and Hydra would have… they still would have gone after my family.” 

Barton’s voice disappeared to almost nothing as he got his words out. Steve put a hand on Barton’s shoulder. Nathaniel, seeing his father across the table, lurched in his direction, trying to climb onto the table and crawl over to him. Bucky held on, but Nathaniel nearly squirmed out of his hold. Carrying the baby, Bucky stood up, walked around the table, and handed Nathaniel over to Barton. 

Barton took his son in his arms, burying his face into the baby’s stomach. Bucky returned to his seat.

“So, what happens now?” asked Laura, holding one of Barton’s hands in hers. 

“Now,” sighed Steve, looking around at his team. “Now, we wait a few more days until we’re sure of everyone’s safety. Bucky and you, and your family, you’ll all come back to headquarters—”

“No,” said both Barton and Bucky at the same time. 

Steve looked between the two of them, turning first to Bucky. “Bucky,” he said, and Bucky could not meet his eyes, casting them down to the tabletop. “Bucky,” repeated Steve with an entirely different tone, less demanding, more conciliatory. “I guess, I assumed you would want to come back with me. But, I understand if you don’t want to. You’re free to choose.”

“Free to choose? Is he free to choose?” asked Romanoff. 

“What do you mean?” asked Steve, defensive.

“Come on, Steve. He’s the Winter Soldier. Look, he may not be a bad guy, but he’s been MIA for years now. He can’t just be free to wander where he pleases.”

“He’s not our prisoner,” said Steve. Bucky risked a glance and saw the flush creep up Steve’s neck.

“I’m not saying he is. Let me put it to you this way. Are you free, Steve? Are any of us? Can we just go where we want? Do what we want? We’re Avengers, and this is our job. What does Tony call it, ‘Terrible Privilege’? Both Tony and Clint are supposed to be retired from the team, and look where they are. The days when we could walk away from this? Well, they don’t exist now, if they ever really existed at all. Like it or not, he’s one of us now.”

Steve pinched his lips as he stared at Natasha, something much more than Bucky could understand passing between them, but Steve didn’t have anything to say to this. 

“He can come with us,” said Barton, having resettled Nathaniel on his lap. “Back to the farm. Laura and I decided, we’re going back.”

Immediate protests erupted from everyone, real or holographic, all across the table. Bucky froze, at once surprised and tense. 

“We made up our minds,” said Barton, looking at Laura who smiled reassuringly. 

“Clint, there is no way every faction of Hydra out there doesn’t know the farm’s location now,” said Steve. “It’s not safe.”

“I know,” answered Barton. “I know. But, it’s our home. What are we going to do? Live in this glorified beach house? No offense, Stark. Raise my family at headquarters? Even if we relocated to a new home somewhere, there’s no guarantee we could keep that one secret any better than we did this one. And truth is, the farm was as secure, hidden, and as off the books as possible.”

“It’d be insane to go back,” said the Maximoff girl. “Your family—”

“Believe me,” interrupted Barton. “No one takes my family’s safety more seriously than I do. No one. I’m not making this decision lightly.”

“Laura?” asked Romanoff.

Laura seemed surprised to be addressed. She looked around at the team, then at her husband. “What we had on that farm as a family was special. Is special. It means everything to me. I’m not going to let them take that away.” Then, she faced Bucky. “You’re welcome to come home with us, for however long you want.”

Bucky wasn’t certain he had ever felt anything like what he was feeling now, a weighted mixture of guilt and uncertainty, a wild rush of longing that he could not name, that left him feeling nauseated. It touched on why he had chosen to use their home as his hideout in the first place, something he could not verbalize, an instinct buried so deep it left him shaking. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking at both Barton and Laura. 

“Of course we are,” said Barton. “You can help fix the damn place, since you messed it up to begin with. You’re already living there anyway.”

There was a strong, sudden heat behind Bucky’s eyes. He nodded, unable to speak. 

“Well, then,” said Steve, and his voice was rough. Bucky felt shame hearing Steve clear his throat, then felt an even more violent stab of longing that he could not process. “Bucky,” said Steve, and Bucky finally looked at him. Steve’s eyes were glowing. “It’s decided. You’ll go with Barton.”

“Okay,” said Stark, breaking the tension. “If this touching hour of show and tell is finally over, some of us have work to do. Barton, your home isn’t going to be habitable for a few days still. I’ve got a team working on it--” Barton started to interrupt, but Stark waved him off. “Don’t worry, I know you want to rebuild it yourself, muscle man, but your family should have, you know, a roof, and walls. There will be plenty left for you to do. You’re welcome to stay at my glorified beach house in the meantime. All of you are welcome. Avengers vacation! Seriously, you all deserve a break. Enjoy the sun. The rest of us can handle things here for a while. Don’t steal my towels. Rhodey, I need you back here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Rhodes, “I’m on my way.”

With that, the team began to rise from their seats, except for Steve who remained across from Bucky. One by one, the holographic images of Stark, Maximoff, Hill, and the Vision flickered out of existence. Bucky didn’t move, hearing snatches of conversations as someone discussed what was for dinner. Natasha handed off a sleeping Lila to Laura, who settled the girl on the couch with a pillow and a blanket. Cooper remained nearby, silent and watching, but he moved to sit by his sister.

After a moment, Steve stood and walked around the table to stand next to him. Steve held out his hand. 

Bucky studied the hand, the shape of it, how familiar it was. He took it in his, and finally rose to stand beside Steve. Together they walked to the kitchen to join the rest of the team.

~~~

The sky was a solid clear blue with no hint of a cloud anywhere, and the clear green ocean crashed in easy, gentle waves. 

Clint thought he’d never seen a more pale bunch of superheroes, all in need of a tan, lying on a beach. Except for Wilson, who was by the BBQ cooking hamburgers and hotdogs for lunch. 

Rogers was the whitest of them all, practically blinding in direct sunlight, all that white skin and muscles. But he probably didn’t burn, thought Clint with an amused yet annoyed snort. 

“What are you laughing at?” asked Laura, sitting with Nathaniel on a blanket under an umbrella. She was attempting to slather on lotion on both herself and the baby, while also trying to stop Nathaniel from tugging his sun hat off and crawling away. That kid was going to be more of a handful than his other two put together, Clint just knew it. 

“I’m laughing at Cap,” said Clint, and Rogers grinned at him, standing in full sunlight in all his perfection. Thank God he was wearing regular swim trunks and not something more revealing. Barton didn’t think his ego could take it. 

“I haven’t been on a beach in years,” said Rogers. “Well, seventy years. Or five years, depending on how you look at it.”

Rogers carried a beach towel, and laid it down next to Natasha despite the very clear “keep away” vibe she’d been projecting all day. Sensing Roger’s presence, Natasha peeped from under her sunglasses, then smirked at him as he lay back on the towel, leaning on his elbows so he could look out at the ocean. 

“Used to go to Coney Island pretty regularly. With Bucky,” said Rogers, gazing over to where Barnes was standing in the low tide, the metal arm the only thing more blinding than Rogers himself. The stickers Lila had put on the arm where still there, peppering the metal at odd angles. Barnes was not as white as Rogers, but he had the pallor of someone who hadn’t seen sunlight in years.

Lila ran back and forth across the beach, showing Barnes, then Natasha, her small discoveries: shells, tiny crabs, weird lumpy seaweed strands. Not too far from where Barnes stood, Cooper was crouching in the sand. 

Clint’s gut tightened as he watched his children. Cooper wouldn’t let go of the paring knife Barnes had given him during the fight, insisting on carrying it everywhere. Laura had tried again earlier to get Cooper to let the knife go, but Cooper had yelled at her. “Leave it,” Clint said. This wasn’t something that was going to go away overnight. 

It wasn’t just Cooper, either. Lila had disappeared for an hour that morning, sending Laura into near hysterics as they searched for her. Barnes had found her in a cabinet in the kitchen, fast asleep.

“So, I’m going to go ahead and say it, since no one else is,” said Maria, sitting on a lounge chair under an umbrella, wearing a sundress and a large sun hat, sipping a mixed drink. She’d arrived that morning and had been huddled together with Rogers for hours. Clint had chosen to stay out of it. “Is it wise to leave Barnes with the kids?”

Both Rogers and Natasha sat up and looked at her. Laura frowned while trying to keep Nathaniel from dumping his Cheerios in the sand. 

“What do you mean?” asked Barton, although he knew perfectly well what she meant. 

“James wouldn’t hurt any of them,” said Laura, calmly. 

“Not on purpose, maybe,” said Maria. “I’m not denying what he did during the attack. But we don’t know him.”

“I’ve known Bucky my whole life--”

“No, Steve, you haven’t. You _knew_ him. That’s not the same thing as knowing him now. You don’t even know if he has all his memories back or not.”

Rogers’ jaw tightened.

“I’m just saying I don’t think Hydra included child care in their assassin training program.”

“How do you know?” asked Natasha. “Don’t forget, I’m a trained assassin, too.”

“You are not Barnes, and you know it,” said Maria. 

“I could have been.”

A beat of silence followed. Barnes, probably aware they were talking about him, glanced in their direction. 

“Bucky grew up in a large family, with three younger sisters. I think that’s why he’s more comfortable with you,” Rogers said to Laura, then he turned back at Maria. “He was the oldest of four, and pretty much raised his sisters because his parents both worked. Hell, he practically raised me. He knows kids. He’s always been good with them. Besides, this is Clint’s decision, and Laura’s.”

Laura stood up with Nathaniel in her arms. “Thank you for your concern,” she said to Maria, managing to sound sincere before heading in Barnes’s direction. 

Clint was curious what his wife was going to do. Barnes saw her approaching, then looked startled as she thrust Nathaniel at him. She said something they couldn’t hear before marching off, heading it seemed over to help Wilson get food together for the kids. 

Despite the gravity of the conversation, Clint started laughing. “I guess that answers that,” he said.

~~~

Several days later, the quinjet glistened in the sunlight, ready to fly them away from the island and back to the Barton homestead.

Bucky waited with Cooper in the shade of a palm tree. Cooper wasn’t speaking much, but neither was Bucky, so that was okay. He knew it wasn’t natural for a boy his age to be so quiet, though. 

“Cooper,” called Laura from the front door. “Come and help me with your things.”

Bucky looked at Cooper. “Go on,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ll be right here.”

Cooper nodded, passing Steve who was walking over. Bucky tensed, seeing that Steve wanted to speak with him. He was carrying a small black box in his hands. 

Steve glanced back at Cooper as he came to a stop in front of Bucky. “How’s he doing?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’ll be okay.”

Steve nodded, then looked as uncomfortable as Bucky felt, which brought on such a powerful memory that Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“What is it?” asked Steve.

“I remember that look.”

Steve’s expression changed to one of embarrassed but pleased surprise, complete with rosy cheeks. 

“I remember that look, too,” said Bucky. 

Steve, laughing a little, shook his head. “Can we talk?”

Bucky nodded, and they walked side-by-side, leaving the manicured front lawn of the beach house but keeping to the shade of the palm trees. It was very warm, but a soft breeze blew, bringing with it the salty, briny scent of the ocean. He picked at the stickers on his left arm. Lila had added several more, but the edges were curling. He was thinking of ways to make them last longer. 

“Have you been… happy, Buck, here?” asked Steve.

Bucky was uncertain what he meant. 

“I mean, being with us. Not being on your own any more.”

He thought about it. Sometimes he missed the voices of the team in his ear, missed the cocoon-like comfort of his small room. Having the voices attached to physical individuals was, at first, very disconcerting, and it had taken a while to get used to it. But he wouldn’t willingly return to his previous isolation. “I think so.”

Steve held his breath for a moment as he nodded, looking down at his feet. He rubbed at his brow with a finger.

Bucky knew he had hurt Steve when he chose to return to the homestead with Barton instead of going back with Steve to the Avengers headquarters. And it was just like Steve not to hold it against him. He reached out and touched Steve’s arm. Steve stepped forward and hugged him. Bucky held still, but then brought his arms around Steve too. 

“Do me a favor?” asked Steve after he let Bucky go. “Call me, all right? Here.” He handed Bucky the box he was holding. “This is from Stark. He said you’d know what to do with it. But I’m serious. Call me, any time. Please.”

Bucky opened the box and saw surveillance tech, similar to the tracking chips he’d used previously, all of which needed replacing after the Hydra attack. There was also a phone. He scrolled through several security applications, and started tapping on them. 

“If I don’t hear from you at least every couple of days, I’m just going to have to move in with Barton too, okay? So, call me. Any time, day or night.”

“All right, Rogers,” said Bucky.

Steve grinned, then pulled Bucky in for another hug. Bucky was getting used Steve hugging him, his familiar weight, the jarring overlap of remembering a smaller Steve. 

He saw that the others had all finally gathered together by the quinjet and were loading up. Lila waved him over before cupping her hands around her mouth and yelling, “James, James, James, we’re leaving!”

“I’m being summoned,” said Bucky. 

“Yeah, we all know who runs that house,” said Steve and Bucky grinned at him. Together, they returned to the quinjet.


	2. PART 2

Clint pushed open the doors to the barn. It was early evening, and fading daylight streamed in through the windows and through the cracks in the paneling. They’d all arrived at the farm a couple of hours ago, and he’d managed to slip away for a few minutes. He breathed in the familiar scent of hay and oil and manure. Maria hadn’t told him where the room was. He turned in a circle, letting his eyes pass over the walls, over the weightlifting bench, worktable, the mess of his tools, the tractor. It took a moment to spot it, and once he did he mentally kicked himself for not having noticed it before.

Careful not to step on any of the mess of gardening tools, spare wood, and other junk crowding the wall, he passed his fingers over the paneling until he felt the notch, and pressed. The wood panel slipped to the side and he stepped into Barnes’s bolt-hole. 

Hill wasn’t kidding. The room was barely big enough to stand in, and just long enough for a full-grown man to lie down lengthwise. There was a pillow and blanket over some hay on the ground, and the rest of the space was filled with a bunch of tech and computers. 

He felt a slight shift in the air and turned to see Barnes standing in the entrance to the room. There wasn’t space for both of them, but Barnes stepped in anyway. 

“Are you angry?” he asked.

Clint glanced at Barnes’s solemn face, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, man, of course I am. I think I might have to change my name from Hawkeye.”

Barnes shook his head. “No. The blind worked exactly because you see better from a distance.”

Leaning against the flimsy wall, Clint folded his arms. “And you’re good at your job.”

“I…yes,” said Barnes, but he lowered his eyes. 

“That’s not why I’m angry, though,” said Clint, shifting as much as he could in the tight space to inspect the tech.

Barnes turned as he looked around, too. “This isn’t what I left here.”

“No. Stark said he was leaving you a present. This is all new stuff so you can carry on as you were doing before.”

“What?” 

“Tony said this was just to start you off. Whatever else you need, you just have to ask.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Security on the farm,” said Clint, stepping closer to Barnes, which in such a tight space really didn’t leave much room between them. 

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” said Clint. “Whatever you think is best.”

Barnes looked like he was going to be sick. When his eyes met Clint’s, they were wet and confused. 

“James,” said Clint, taking Barnes by both arms to face him fully. “It’s going to be okay.

After a moment, Barnes nodded. 

Clint smiled, then sighed as he looked down. “You slept here?”

Barnes nodded again, working hard to find his voice. “Mostly. It wasn’t so bad.”

Clint started to say something to that, but then thought better. “Well. That ends now. We actually have a guest room and everything.”

Predictably, Barnes started backing into the tight corner. “No, I’m okay here.”

Clint bit back a strong desire to swear. “Sure,” he said, chuckling. “Right. That’ll fly. Laura wouldn’t flay me alive and probably beat the crap out of me or anything.”

That managed to get Barnes to smile a little. 

“Want to know the real reason I’m mad?”

Barnes was breathing normal again. “Why?”

This time, Clint’s eyes began to sting and his throat closed. He wanted to say what it was about the tiny room, imagining Barnes living in it, that made him angry, but found he couldn’t. He simply said, “Doesn’t matter, now. Come on. We can start on all this stuff tomorrow.”

Clint led Barnes out of the small room, pausing only long enough to put the false wall back in place.

~~~

There was a lot of work to do. Bucky spent his days in Barton’s company, with Cooper and Lily underfoot, listening to a tinny radio as they repaired the house. The porch had to be completely rebuilt. Most of the interior of the first floor was damaged, with walls stripped down to the studs, the floorboards pulled up, the kitchen all but destroyed.

In the kitchen, Bucky passed his right hand over the splintered table, still largely intact despite the beating it had taken. Solid oak. Laura came up beside him. “I asked Mr. Stark to leave it,” she said. 

Then Barton came up on his other side. “We can fix it. Can’t we?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky looked from one to the other. “Yes.”

With the days heading into spring, it was hot, sweaty work. A different kind of work than what he knew. Yet, it awakened a nest of sense memory inside of him -- the smell of fresh cut wood, the feel of a hammer in his hand, working side-by-side with someone. 

“I remember this,” he said to Barton, quietly so the children couldn’t hear.

“What do you mean?” Barton asked, struggling to shift a heavy support beam they were planning on installing to the ceiling of the first floor. 

Bucky picked up the beam and set it down roughly in line with where it would go. 

Barton watched him move the beam and then began muttering, “Goddamn super soldiers.” He continued grumbling under his breath about Norse Gods and hammers and “being worthy,” generally so put out that Bucky grinned at him. Barton turned in a circle, finally locating the ladder and moving it over under the spot in the ceiling where the beam would go. Bucky held the ladder steady. Barton stopped a couple of steps up. “You remember what? Carpentry? Building houses?”

Bucky dropped his eyes to stare at the tread of each step of the ladder. “Not the work, exactly. But the… feeling. This feeling.” He looked at his hands: one flesh, one metal.

He felt Barton shift his weight on the ladder, then he held his own hand in between Bucky’s. A rough hand. Calloused. “Yeah,” he said, and he gripped the metal hand hard. 

~~~

He found having an entire guest room to himself to be very strange, and he often didn’t know what to do when he was in it. He stood by the window, gazing out to the back yard and the trees, seeing the perimeter of the homestead. His phone beeped, and he looked down to quickly scroll through the security applications: real time satellite imagery, perimeter boundary detection, surveillance, GPS. The farm was safe, the farm was secure. The team was safe, the team was secure.

Bucky sensed that he was being watched. Turning, he spotted Cooper standing just to the left of the door. He waved the boy in. 

Cooper only took a couple of steps inside, looking just as out of place as Bucky felt. 

“Do you,” Cooper started, shifting from foot to foot. “Do you want to see my room?”

Bucky smiled a little. “Okay,” he said, and followed Cooper out into the hallway, then down a few doors. Mercifully, the attack had focused on the front of the house, leaving the back bedrooms undamaged. 

Cooper’s room was pleasantly disorganized, with a jumbled mess of sports equipment nestled in one corner, several untidy bookshelves, bins full of toys, and a random assortment of posters on the walls. Once they were both inside the room, it was like an invisible barrier lifted, a dam broke, and Cooper started talking non-stop. He brought out his action figures, showing Bucky how they moved, the special tricks some of them could do. He showed him his collection of matchbox cars, and the Lego castle he had been working on, and he showed him the tool set his grandparents had bought him for Christmas last year that was just like his dad’s. He showed Bucky his special Avengers memorabilia that he kept in a box hidden from Lila because she always stole his Hulk stuff. They sat on Cooper’s bed and he showed him all the comics Romanoff had brought him.

Then, just as suddenly as he had started talking, he stopped, fingering the pile of comics before looking over at Bucky.

“If you want,” said Cooper, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “You can sleep in here. When you’re scared. If you don’t want to be alone.”

Bucky felt pressure in the back of his throat and he forced himself to look gravely at Cooper. With his right hand, he gripped the boy’s neck gently. “Yeah, I’d like that sometimes. Thanks.”

Cooper hugged him, and Bucky slowly brought his arms around to hold him close.

When they pulled apart, he noticed the knife Cooper still kept tucked into his belt. “Can I see your knife?” he asked.

Hesitating, Cooper took the knife out of his belt loop and handed it to him, the sharp end pointed away. 

Bucky removed the paper sheath Cooper had made, then shifted the knife in his hand, forwards and backwards, taking Cooper’s hand in his to show him how to handle a knife. “You should give this back to your mom.”

“I know. Dad says the same thing. But I don’t… What if something happens? What if they come back? I have to protect them. I’m their big brother.”

Cooper’s eyes were shining. Even though there was nothing similar between them, Cooper reminded Bucky of Steve when Steve was a kid. They looked nothing alike, and Cooper was about a thousand times healthier and stronger than Steve ever was at the same age, but there was something in the shape of Cooper’s boyish neck, in his shoulders too slight to carry the burdens not meant for a child. 

Bucky wouldn’t lie to him, and he struggled to put into words what no kid should have to hear. “They might come back,” he said. “But your dad won’t let them hurt you or your brother and sister. I won’t let them hurt any of you.”

“But what if… what if Dad can’t stop them?”

“Aw, your dad’s strong. He’d never let anything stop him from protecting his family. And he’s got me to help him. And your Aunt Nat, and Steve, and all of his friends. And your mom.”

Cooper struggled to fight tears. 

“Here, let me show you.” Bucky took out his phone, and showed Cooper how the farm looked from a bird’s eye view, first in infrared, then satellite. He showed him the GPS map with the little dots, and told him which one was which: this one was Lila, this one was Nathaniel, this one Barton, and this one Laura. “I keep it in my pocket. I check it all the time.”

“That one’s me?” asked Cooper, pointing. 

“Yeah,” he said, letting Cooper use the phone, shift the map around, expand it big and small.

Cooper touched the phone all around. Then, shyly, he touched Bucky’s metal hand, fingers lightly tracing the slats of the arm. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” answered Bucky, letting the kid explore all he wanted. “But it was a long time ago. Here,” he said, taking off the glove from his left hand. “This is for you.” Bucky put the glove on Cooper’s left hand. “You keep that. And when you’re older, when your dad says it’s okay, I’ll show you how to use a knife. If you want to.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Cooper, his face lighting up as he tugged the glove more firmly in place, making a fist with his left hand and punching the air. 

Bucky tousled Cooper’s hair. “Come on. Let’s give that knife back to your mom.”

With a sigh, Cooper nodded and picked up the knife from the bed. They went down the stairs and Cooper called out for his mom. Laura stepped out from the kitchen area. Barton was on the couch, going over plans for the porch. They both looked up as Cooper came over with Bucky following. 

Cooper held out the knife. “Sorry I kept it so long,” he said as Laura took the knife and set it down on the kitchen counter, a hand covering her mouth. 

Laura shook her head. “It’s okay, honey, come here.” She hugged him, kissing the top of his head. 

“Over here, son,” said Barton, waving Cooper over. Cooper launched into his father’s arms and they rolled around on the couch, Lila running over to jump on her brother. Barton put both his arms around his kids, laughing and hugging. Nathaniel, not to be left out, was jumping up and down in his bouncer, clapping his hands.

Bucky backed away from the family scene but stopped when he caught Laura’s eye. She mouthed a “thank you” to him. He nodded, stepping through the front door, and down the makeshift temporary steps. 

In the fresh evening air, he retreated to the barn, to his small room with every possible security and surveillance tech Stark was able to give him, and methodically went through each security measure, double checking. All was safe, all was secure.

Then, he took out his phone and made a call. It rang twice before picking up. 

“Bucky?”

Something inside of him unclenched at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Steve,” he said, closing his eyes.

~~~

Three days later, the phone rang. Laura answered, looking up to meet Clint’s eyes as she said a quick hello to Nat before passing it over, already knowing what was next. James waited beside her, his arms loosely held at his sides.

Clint retreated for some privacy into the study but when he returned, he said, “It’s not a mission. Nat wants me there to go over some things. Gotta put some face-time in at the office. Stark’s flying up here to pick me up, then we’re headed over.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I should be back later tonight.”

Laura nodded, but didn’t say anything as he kissed and hugged each of their kids, then stopped in front of James. Laura could see James braced as if for impact, uncertain, and she thought he might be afraid Clint was going to ask him to go with him. But Clint shook his head slightly, then held out a hand. 

“Come here,” he said to James, almost like he was a fourth child. Some of the worry Laura was feeling relaxed as she watched Clint loudly slapping James’s back. He then pulled away, said something to James she couldn’t hear, waiting for James to nod in agreement.

“Okay, everyone be good. Don’t wait up,” he said. 

She walked with him to the front door, let him kiss her one more time, before watching as he lightly jumped down the still unfinished porch, striding to what was quickly becoming the farm’s landing site. She waited until the quinjet materialized, landed, then vanished again. 

For the rest of the morning, the kids were out of sorts. Nathaniel couldn’t be pleased with anything, throwing his food to the floor. Lila and Cooper fought over the same comic book again, yelling at each other. 

“No hitting,” Laura stepped in between, grabbing Lila by her arm, pained by the tears in her daughter’s eyes and Cooper’s mulish glower. Laura felt her patience evaporating, stretched to the limit as Nathaniel began to howl again. “Give me that thing,” she said to Cooper, and he reluctantly handed over the comic.

“All right,” said James, picking up Nathaniel from his chair, who quieted immediately. “Everyone outside. Out.” He ushered Cooper and Lila out the back door, pausing only long enough to give her a reassuring smile. 

In the sudden quiet of an empty house, Laura set on the couch with her head in her hands, the urge to cry coming and then going. Normally, she was quite pragmatic about Clint needing to leave all the time for parts unknown, but she guessed this being the first time since the attack, it was bound to be difficult. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she stood up and began to put order back to the house. 

From the kitchen windows, she had a view of her children running around like hooligans. James was playing some kind of game with them, but she couldn’t make out the rules. It involved a lot of running and jumping and yelling. Nathaniel was crawling on the ground, content to yell and clap and dig his hands into the dirt. Lila liked to dangle from James’s metal arm like it was a jungle gym, his other hand ready to catch her should she slip. 

With the sound of her children’s voices in her ears, Laura prepared their lunches before calling them back in. “Lunch is ready,” she opened the door and waved. 

Cooper and Lila very solemnly lined up in front of her. “We’re sorry for fighting,” they said, almost in unison. 

Laura looked from their two faces to James and back again, catching both Cooper and Lila trying to get reassurances from him. Her lips twitched with the urge to laugh, but said, “Apology accepted.”

They rushed to hug her, then clambered around the kitchen table to sit.

“Wash your hands,” she said, patting each on their backs. “Come on.”

They groaned and sighed before stampeding to different bathrooms to do as she asked. James stepped into the kitchen, Nathaniel hitched to his side as he washed the baby’s face and hands. 

“Thanks,” she said, leaning against the sink. Nathaniel reached for her, and she smiled at his happy baby face scrubbed pink. 

James shook his head. “They’re good kids.”

“Yes, I guess they are.” She kissed Nathaniel’s cheek. “Come,” she said, offering her hand to James. “Come and eat with us.”

He furrowed his brow. “I thought I would…” and he made a vague gesture to the outside. She wasn’t certain what he did out there, but he often left the house and disappeared for a couple of hours at a time, as if he wanted to give them space or maybe he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in the house. 

“Please,” she said. 

He sat beside Lila, not eating much but catching Laura’s gaze sometimes with an answering smile of his own. 

Later, while Nathaniel napped and Cooper and Lila sat quietly working on separate homework assignments, he joined her in the kitchen, helping to clean and put away the dishes.

“It used to be easier,” she found herself saying. “When Clint went away. Since the whole Avengers thing… well, it’s changed.” She turned to face James who was watching her. “There was this incident with, um, that person who attacked New York. Loki was his name. He had some kind of control over Clint. Did you know about this?”

“I was--” She watched him search for words. “…not active at the time. I became aware of the incident afterwards.”

She touched his arm. “Natasha brought him back. They’re best friends. It helps, knowing she’s there, that they’re in this together.”

“You trust her.” 

It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Completely. The kids love her. She’s been a good friend. You remind me of her sometimes.”

She could tell James didn’t know what to say to that. Then, he seemed almost shy. “I could be your best friend,” he said.

A warm burst of affection, almost adoration, bloomed in her chest. “I’d love that. But your best friend is Steve.”

His eyes darkened again and he got a far away expression. She knew there was a great wound there, between Steve Rogers and James Barnes. But then he turned contemplative. “I don’t think Steve would mind. He’s not like that. And maybe, there’s no limit on best friends.”

She grinned. “Maybe.” 

The light from the window bathed James in a golden light, his dark hair tucked behind his ears. He was wearing one of Clint’s old T-shirts, a blue one, because he didn’t really have much clothing of his own, something they hadn’t gotten around to remedying yet. She stepped closer and rested her head against his chest. After a moment, he brought his flesh arm around her shoulders.

“Here,” he said as she stepped away. “This is probably breaking several security protocols, but…” He took from his right ear what looked like a hearing aid, bringing it to her ear. “He’s safe. They’re talking about boring stuff now.”

She looked into James’s eyes as she pressed the device into her ear, listening to Clint speaking about people she didn’t know. Then Nat started talking, interrupted by Tony Stark’s voice. Then Clint, again, saying something totally irreverent, and she laughed. She took the device out and handed it back to James. “Thank you.”

He nodded, sticking the thing back in his ear. 

As the sky darkened, heading into evening, it started to rain. She was grateful Stark had made the house livable before they returned, the rain beating loudly against the windowpanes. She got the older kids to go to bed without too much complaining, and then took Nathaniel into his room to give him a bottle and get him ready for bed. When she came out, she knew James was no longer in the house. 

She wasn’t afraid, but with the storm outside she went to her bedroom, restless and uncertain, wishing Clint were home. It was past midnight when she heard a noise in the hallway and stepped out to see James standing at the door to his bedroom drenched from head to toe. 

“What have you been doing?” She stepped into the hall bathroom to grab a towel.

“Checking the perimeter,” he said, wiping rain from his face. He let her pull him into the master bedroom, and over to the walk-in closet.

“Get out of those clothes,” she ordered. He hesitated, and she folded her arms until, with a flushed grin, he raised his shirt over his head. 

She handed him some of Clint’s clothes to put on, not bothering to be shy about his nakedness. She’d seen him completely naked already when he had been unconscious, and she’d helped change his clothes after surgery. She noticed now, though, that he no longer had those scars. 

“You’re chilled.”

“I’m fine,” he said, taking the towel from her, rubbing at his wet hair. “I don’t get sick.”

“Still, you must be freezing. Stay in here tonight. It’s warmer in this room.”

He hesitated again when she pulled him toward the bed, looking at it like it might swallow him up. She let go of his hand, trying to convey without saying the words that she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted his company. 

“James,” she said. “Nothing is going to happen.”

He didn’t seem so sure about this, but conceded to sit on the very edge of the bed. She suppressed a smile, and lay down on her side, on top of the covers, still dressed in her robe. He turned so he could face her and she patted the bedclothes. He eventually lay down, as far from her as he could without falling off the bed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s weird. I don’t mean it to be.”

“It’s okay.” She sensed him relax slightly. “It’s like a sleepover.”

She smiled. “I’m too old for that.”

The bedroom was mostly dark. She’d left the light in the closet on, and the door was open to the hallway. She closed her eyes and started drifting off to sleep when something touched her hand. James’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and regular, and he’d reached out across the bed to rest his hand next to hers. 

She wasn’t certain how long she had been asleep when a soft bump against the bed and a muffled curse woke her. “Clint?” she asked, rising up on an elbow, blinking as her vision cleared. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered, standing at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips. “So,” he said, and she realized that James was sitting up next to her. “This is how it’s going to be, huh?”

“Sorry,” said James, attempting to leave the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait,” said Clint, blocking him, almost wrestling James back onto the mattress. “Wait, you goof. Get back in bed. It’s okay. Come on. I’m only kidding. I’m not an idiot. I know nothing’s going on here.”

James continued to look petrified, staring at Clint, then at her. Laura held her breath, nodding.

“Shhh,” said Clint, pressing James back down to rest on the pillow. He caressed a hand through James’s still damp hair. “Shhh. Rest now.”

Clint didn’t move from James’s side until it stopped looking like he might bolt for the door. He then turned the light off in the closet, and stripped down to his boxers before climbing onto the bed, lying down in the space between Laura and James. 

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m beat. It’s been a long day. Not quite Eugene O’Neil long, though, like Stark likes to say, the bastard. He thinks he’s so funny.” 

Clint continued to mumble sleepily, and Laura snuggled next to him as he wrapped his arms around her. She lifted her head and saw the outline of James’ body, too rigid to be sleeping. She lay down again to see Clint’s bright eyes watching her with an expression that clearly said, “What are you getting us into?”

She touched his face, kissed him before resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, and falling asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, she and Clint were alone, and there was no sign of James anywhere. It was past eight in the morning, the sun shining brightly through the windows, no trace of clouds in the sky. Usually, Nathaniel woke her at least once during the night, and would be demanding attention by five. She sat partway up, listening, hearing noises coming from the first floor. Trying not to wake Clint who was still fast asleep, she rose from the bed, tip toeing out to the hallway and down the stairs, stopping as she peeped around the corner to look into the kitchen.

James had Nathaniel in his high chair and was feeding him something mashed and green while Cooper and Lila sat at the kitchen table, coloring in separate books, the remainder of their breakfast evident in the empty bowls and dirty utensils pushed off to the side. 

“Daddy’s home?” asked Lila.

“Yes,” said James. “He came home late last night. But he’s still sleeping. So is your mom. And we’re going to let them sleep for a bit more. No loud noises. We’ll go outside as soon as Nathaniel’s done eating.”

“It’s going to be muddy,” said Cooper in his slightly anxious tone of voice. 

“Don’t worry,” said James. “We’ll find a non-muddy spot.”

“I’m not afraid of mud,” said Lila, making a face at Cooper. 

Laura put a hand to her mouth, watching the scene with wonder. She felt Clint come up behind her, and she leaned back against his chest. They watched for another ten seconds before he pulled her away, and they headed back up the stairs. 

Without speaking, as they closed the door to their bedroom she started undressing, reaching for Clint, desperate for him. It had been like this since the attack, this hard desire for him, this unsteady need, and she cried softy when he kissed her. They fell back onto the bed.

He lay on top of her and she looked up into his dark blue eyes. “Hi,” she said. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kissed all over, parting her legs, sinking into her.

She arched up, her hand falling to the side where James had slept beside them. 

They didn’t come down from their room until well after noon. 

~~~

Bucky never called Steve at the same time. He called in the morning, or at midnight, or five in the evening. Steve answered by the second or third ring, no matter the time, no matter if he was busy or not. 

The conversations could be quick, or lengthy. It was easier to talk to Steve over the phone than it had been in person, and he liked having Steve’s voice in his ear. 

They talked about the past. They talked about Peggy Carter. Bucky remembered Peggy, lovely and strong, and remembered how she used to look at Steve, and how Steve used to look at her.

He remembered shadowy instances of her from his Hydra years, always ordered to stay hidden from her at all costs. 

Steve asked after the farm. He wanted to know about Bucky’s day, and how the kids were doing, and if Laura needed anything. Bucky did not tell Steve about the nights he slept in Clint and Laura’s bed. It wasn’t every night, and it was only sleeping. He still often chose to sleep in the guest room, or sometimes he returned to the hidden room in the barn, or he slept on a camp bed in Cooper’s room. But more and more often, he slept in their bed. Clint was something of an aggressive cuddler. It wasn’t always comfortable. 

He sometimes thought Steve knew about these nights anyway, but chose not to ask about it. Steve also never came out and asked if Bucky wanted to leave the farm and come to headquarters, but it felt like the question hovered at the end of every phone call. 

He started calling Steve at increasingly random times, even though he knew Steve’s schedule and could choose to call at more convenience. It was childish, testing Steve like this, testing to see if Steve really would answer his call no matter what he was busy with, no matter what he was doing. But he couldn’t seem to help it.

In the middle of the night, Bucky disentangled himself from Clint, going downstairs to sit on the newly built porch. It was near one in the morning. Bucky took out his phone and called Steve. It rang once, twice, three times. It continued to ring, and Bucky’s heart began to beat loudly in his chest. He started to think maybe Steve was in trouble or sick. Maybe he couldn’t answer, and he had to stop himself from rushing to the barn to check Steve’s GPS signal. 

Then, the phone clicked. There was clatter and noise and then finally Steve’s out-of-breath voice asking, “Bucky?”

Bucky froze, a vivid image of exactly what would make Steve out of breath in the middle of the night sprang into his mind in full Technicolor detail, and he felt a rush of hot embarrassment. 

“Bucky, is everything all right?”

“Oh, God, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“What? No, it’s okay.” 

“I’m an asshole,” said Bucky. He was bending over, arms covering his head as he sat on the porch steps.

“Don’t say that,” said Steve, automatically upset. “Please.”

“I keep calling you like a jerk, to, I don’t know, just to prove something. What, I don’t know,” he confessed.

“Honestly, Buck, I don’t mind. I want you to call.”

“I interrupted something.”

“Uh,” said Steve. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he said.

“Bucky, please don’t stop calling.” Steve sounded a little desperate now.

Silence followed. He wanted to ask Steve about who he was with, but didn’t feel that he had the right. “You’re not alone.”

“No, but I can still talk.”

“Are you happy, Steve?”

Another palpable silence. “Jesus, Bucky. I’m… getting there.”

Bucky felt his throat swell up. He wanted to ask if Steve was in love. Steve deserved to love someone. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Don’t keep her waiting. Them? Whomever, waiting.”

He heard a strangled sort of laugh. “Will you call again?” 

“Yes, you big punk, tomorrow. After your morning run.”

“You know when I go for a run?”

“Of course I know.”

Steve huffed. “Sleep well. Talk to you then.”

The line clicked silent. Bucky continued to sit on the steps of the porch, staring out to the shifting shadows of the fields and trees. 

~~~

Natasha called again, this time with a mission. “Ask if _El Soldado de Invierno_ wants to come, too,” she said. 

Clint had brought Lila a packet of sticker paper and her own sticker making kit. They had all practiced their Spanish together, the result of which was that James had a lot more crudely drawn stickers stuck to his metal arm. 

“Does _El Soldado_ want to come?” Clint repeated, looking at James, who froze in the process of helping Nathaniel put on some clothing. He looked near panic-stricken, and Clint sighed internally. He had mixed feelings, since he knew the goal was to have James brought more properly on to the team, something he was fairly certain James actually wanted, but he also felt infinitely more secure knowing James was with his family while he was away. “I think that’s a pass,” he said to Natasha. 

“Right,” she said, unsurprised. “Be ready to fly in half an hour. Briefing at HQ at oh nine hundred.”

The mission was a fairly straightforward one. All recent intel on Hydra-related threats, the ongoing investigation into the attack on his home, as well as the ever growing threats from other sources, had all dried up in recent weeks, but the Vision had uncovered a secret base in northern Alaska, and they were being asked to clear it out. 

At headquarters, in the weapons and locker room, Clint methodically went over his bow and quiver, checking and rechecking. Steve walked over and leaned against a locker. Clint didn’t stop what he was doing. He had been expecting this for a while now, but Steve had so far restrained himself to only casual questions about how things were going with James. Clint figured it wasn’t his place to get between James and Steve, or report on one to the other. He knew they talked often on the phone, but he had no idea what if anything James was telling Steve. 

“Do you mind if we talk?” asked Steve, and he sat on the bench.

Clint swung his quiver into place. “What’s on your mind, Cap?”

Steve looked at him until Clint had no choice but to sit next to him. Then, he said, quietly. “Just tell me you know what you’re doing.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Do I have to get more specific? Should I? Do I need to start questioning… just what the hell you’re doing? What you’re playing at?”

Clint felt the a rush of both anger and shame, the hairs in the back of his neck standing up straight as he turned to look Steve square in the face. But he also felt a very real uncomfortable jolt to his sternum. This was Steve Rogers after all. They all got a kick out of making fun of him for his more old-fashioned attitudes, but the truth was Clint respected the hell out of him. If Steve Rogers thought he deserved a lecture, there was probably a very real possibility that he was right. Clint knew what was going on at home between Laura, James and him -- and nothing had happened so far except sleeping, but Clint didn’t fool himself into thinking it would remain so -- would not be looked on favorably. Or at least, would cause a lot of eyebrows to rise. 

They stared at each. “What do you know? Or think you know?”

“Nothing, officially,” said Steve, softening. “But, I’ve known Bucky my whole life, Clint. I know something’s going on.”

Clint shook his head. They stayed quiet together for several moments, Clint very much aware that Steve was studying him. 

“Look,” said Steve. “It’s not my place to tell you how to live your life. It’s definitely not my place to get in the middle of your marriage. It’s not even my place to tell Bucky what to do. I just, I don’t know…” He trailed off, then met Clint’s gaze directly. “I trust you.”

Jeez, thought Clint. If anything, he felt worse. “You trust me. Do you trust him?”

Steve took a deep breath. “With our lives? Absolutely. With his own life?” He pursed his lips, waggled his head. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been that long since he’s come back.”

It hadn’t, Clint knew this, and he knew, or suspected, what was really at the core of Steve’s concern. “Steve,” he said. “He’s okay. He’s eating and sleeping. He’s not waking up screaming bloody murder, which is a flat out miracle in my opinion. The kids love him. Laura loves him. He’s occupied and busy. And he misses you.”

Steve’s eyes got very bright, and he looked a little lost. 

“Every day. He misses you. You’re a big part of his life.”

“Does he talk about me?”

“Yeah,” said Clint, smiling. “He does, sometimes. He says you’re a punk.”

Steve laughed, and dropped his head to hide his face. 

“Just give him time. Trust me, I don’t think you’re going to have to wait too long.”

They sat quietly together, even as the call to scramble came over comms. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he answered, clapping Steve on his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, speeding over the skies to their destination, Steve asked for roll call over comms. “Avengers, call names check in. Captain America, secure channel one, check.”

Clint stood next to Steve and eyed him. The entire team stood in the quinjet with him, so there was very little need to do an official roll call. However, one by one the others checked in over comms. Clint was the last to go. “Hawkeye, check.”

Then, a long silence followed as Steve waited, not moving on to start the briefing. Everyone looked at each other expectantly. “Let’s do that again,” said Steve, starting the check in over again. One by one, they followed, giving each other confused looks. 

After everyone checked in again and there was another long silence, then finally, James’s voice came over comms. “Winter Soldier, check,” he said.

“Great,” said Steve. “Avengers assembled. Black Widow, proceed.”

With a knowing smirk, Natasha began the briefing, going over the specs to the Alaskan base. Clint stepped closer to Steve, swaying slightly with the motion of the jet. He caught Steve’s eye, and tapped his comm unit off. He leaned in and said, “Well played, Cap.”

 

~~~

James was already in bed sitting cross-legged when Clint and Laura entered the bedroom. It was unusual for James to be there before them. Usually, either Clint or Laura had to cajole him into the room. 

Clint, still talking to Laura, started changing out of his clothes. “I’m just saying it would be a nice change.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d arranged to have the house half demolished just so you wouldn’t run out of projects.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, affronted, but he winked at James. “I thought you liked the room I built for you.”

“Of course I do,” she said, padding over to him in her stocking feet and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love my room. I just, one day, would like not to live in the middle of a construction zone. Maybe. James agrees with me, don’t you, James?”

James was startled to be brought into the discussion. “Uh…”

“Nu uh, lady,” said Clint, climbing into bed next to James. “Don’t you go commandeering James to your side.”

Laura laughed as she began to undress. Clint saw James immediately avert his eyes. It amazed Clint that Laura felt so comfortable undressing in front of someone other than himself. She had become unsure about her body after the third pregnancy, no matter how much Clint assured her she was beautiful. But she didn’t seem to mind James.

“Hey,” said Clint, quietly getting James’s attention. Their eyes met, then Clint shifted his gaze back to Laura. “Look at her.”

Laura was brushing her hair by the vanity, wearing a simple pale colored nightgown so thin he could see through it to the silhouette of her body. She caught their eyes in the mirror, setting the brush down, and crossed the room to turn the lamp light off before slipping into the bed beside Clint. There was still plenty of light to see by, between the nightlight in the hallway and the moon outside. 

She straddled him, the nightgown hiking up to her legs, pooling around her waist. He was hyper aware of James beside them as they kissed. 

James watched with a soft, slightly confused expression. There was only the sound of their breathing and night noises coming from the outside, the wind and the rustling of the trees. To Clint, it seemed like both Laura and James glowed in the moonlight. 

She reached for James, a pale hand brushing his hair from his face, cupping his cheek. Clint wasn’t certain what she would do until she leaned across, her hand now resting on James’s chest, and kissed him. 

The kiss seemed to suspend in time until James’s face crumpled in pain and he backed away without touching her. He stared at her and then at Clint with wide, tortured eyes. 

“James,” she said. “Wait.”

“Hey,” called Clint, hampered by Laura’s weight on him and unable to reach James before he bolted for the door. 

Clint turned the bedside lamp on, sliding Laura off of him. She was folding in on herself, her two hands covering her face. “Sweetheart,” he said, kissing her, pulling her hands away. “Come on, look at me. We just surprised him.”

She was shaking her head. “I told him nothing would happen.”

He sighed, massaging her shoulders. He should have expected something like this, but had let himself get caught up in the moment. They probably should have talked with James beforehand, all three of them together, and made sure he was okay with it. None of this was exactly planned. 

“I’ll go see to him,” he said, but before he could leave the bed she pulled him to her. He spent several more minutes holding her before he was able to leave. 

He expected he would have to go out to the barn to find James, but James was sitting on the porch steps, his head in his hands. He looked behind him when he heard Clint approaching. Clint sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” James said, immediately, not looking at him. 

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “If anything it’s my fault.”

“Is Laura all right?”

“She will be. She’s more worried about you.” James kicked a little at some dirt on the steps. Clint lifted his hand to grip James’s shoulder, giving him plenty of time to realize what he was doing and to stop it if he wanted. 

James let out a breath, then seemed to lean into the touch. Clint slipped his arm around his shoulders and James buried his face into the crook of Clint’s neck. 

“I think I should leave,” said James, and Clint completely froze. He couldn’t even contemplate James out there on his own, alone, without any of his family. Steve would kill Clint. But then James pressed in harder and said, “If I call Steve, do you think…”

“Yes,” said Clint automatically, closing his eyes in stark relief. Then his relief was followed sharply by a sad yet ecstatic internal jump for joy. As awkward and disappointing as the evening had been, he knew this was a good development. “Just do me a favor and say good-bye to the kids before you go?”

James’s eyes darkened at the mention of the children, but he nodded. They remained close sitting together, and Clint, feeling bold, turned James to face him. 

“You know,” he said. “I’ve never kissed a guy before.”

James quirked his eyebrows, and looked at Clint’s mouth. Clint didn’t think his lack of experience with men so unusual. He had been with Laura for over a decade now, and before that, while never exactly a saint, he had stuck mainly with women. 

He passed a finger over James’s bottom lip. James grew even paler in the moonlight, but he gave the barest nod of assent.

The kiss was soft and still, ending after only a moment. Clint kissed him again, opening his mouth, and felt a rush of arousal as James made a hungry noise. He didn’t want to push too hard or too fast, struggling to control the pace. They stopped, his lips skimming over James’s neck, shivering. 

James pulled away, still looking at Clint’s mouth, but he creased his forehead in thought. “Is this… Do you guys want this?”

Clint held back a sigh. It was of course a fair question, and the last thing he wanted was to confuse matters further. He knew the whole thing could have been handled better. “Yeah,” he said, “If you do.”

James’s brow creased even more as he worked through whatever he was thinking.

“Hey,” said Clint. “Nothing has to be decided today. And nothing ever has to happen more than this, all right?” 

After a moment, James nodded. 

Clint pulled away, wanting to give James time to think, and he wanted to return to Laura. “I better go back.”

James’s dark eyes followed Clint as he stood up and kissed the top of his head before entered the house.

Inside, he waited before going upstairs, looking through the wavering lines of the foyer windows at James sitting on the porch steps. He didn’t have to wait long. A few seconds passed, then he saw James take his phone out and say, “Steve?” There was a quavering note to his voice, but he let go of a breath. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

Clint ran upstairs before he heard any more. 

In the morning, Clint spoke to both Lila and Cooper, explaining that James had to go to work, the same way he did, but they would see him again before too long. “Come say goodbye,” he said, leading them over to James who waited in the living room. 

Lila, solemn-eyed and reproachful, stared at James for a long moment before rushing forward and throwing herself into his arms. 

“Hey there,” said James, gently holding her.

“Don’t forget me,” she said, in all her innocence. Clint felt sucker-punched on James’s behalf.

James’s face became like a mask, hollow-eyed and frozen solid, but he knelt in front of her, and when he looked at her his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Okay. I won’t.”

He sat on the couch and she crawled into his lap, holding out a sheet of stickers full of her many drawings. “I made you these.”

“Wow, thanks.” He took the sheet as she pointed out each sticker, saying its name.

“Here.” She peeled off a sticker and he offered her his metal arm. She stuck it on the inside of his wrist, then gave him a quick kiss before running away up the stairs. 

James then turned to Cooper, waving him over to stand before him. “This is for you,” he said, and gave Cooper his phone. 

Hesitantly, Cooper took it with the hand wearing James’s glove. “But, don’t you need it?”

“I have another one. You remember how to use it?” Cooper nodded. “Good. Promise to call me sometimes?”

Cooper grinned. “Okay,” he said, already playing with the phone. 

James showed him the passcode, and set it to read Cooper’s fingerprint. “I’m serious,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”

“All right,” said Cooper, and he hugged James before flopping onto the couch to continue exploring the phone. 

James stood and with a wary and unsure expression, turned to where Laura was in the kitchen, bouncing Nathaniel in her arms. She’d been avoiding him all morning. “It’s stripped of pretty much all of its functions,” James said quietly to Clint. “The phone, I mean. It’ll dump its data if someone other than one of you tries to access it.”

Clint waved his hand. “Whatever, man. I trust you.” James grinned at him, but the grin faded as he looked back at Laura. Clint pushed him in her direction.

He approached her and when she finally turned toward him, he took Nathaniel from her arms. He spoke earnestly to the baby, promising he would see him soon. Nathaniel frowned, but didn’t cry.

“Here, I’ll take him,” said Clint, holding out his arms. “Come on, Coop,” he called. “Why don’t you show me what James gave you?”

Carrying Nathaniel, Clint led Cooper all the way over to the far side of the living room, wanting to give Laura and James as much privacy as he could. In his periphery, he saw that Laura would not look up from the floor until James leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and the next thing she had her arms around his neck and they were swaying together, circling from side to side around the kitchen. 

He heard the all to familiar sound of a quinjet landing and walked over to the window to look outside. “James,” he said, nodding to the window. 

James whispered something in Laura’s ear and she smiled sadly at him as he walked away. Clint was tempted to go with him out to the jet but instead he held the door open. 

“See you in a few days,” he said, then pulled him in for a hug. The metal hand gently cupped the back of his head and they pressed their cheeks together. 

Clint let James go and watched him cross the yard. Steve was waiting at the top of the hill, in his full Captain America uniform but without the helmet. The two super soldiers faced each other, then Steve gripped James’s shoulder before they walked together and disappeared into the jet. 

~~~

Headquarters was a busy hive of activity, filled with the industry of the Avengers. After the quiet of the farm, it was overwhelming, and Bucky struggled not to retreat to his quarters, wanting to close his door to all of it. He missed the children. He missed the quiet sounds of Clint and Laura breathing while they slept next to him. 

Steve’s presence helped. Bucky stuck to Steve like Velcro, going everywhere he went from when he woke up in the morning till when he went to sleep at night. He slept in his own quarters, but they were adjacent to Steve’s and he sometimes crept in there at night to sleep on Steve’s couch. 

During the day, he watched Steve with his team, watched him lead and guide and mentor. He watched Steve’s strength and skill when fighting, when teaching. 

“What are you thinking?” asked Steve, catching Bucky watching him after a particularly brutal early morning meeting that had been filled with a staggering amount of bureaucracy and politics -- and he’d thought the old World War II briefing sessions had been dull. 

“I’m thinking I barely recognize that kid from Brooklyn who needed my help when Matty McDougal wanted to bust his kneecaps behind Greene’s Grocers.” Steve didn’t much resemble the Captain from 1945 either. He’d changed a lot.

“He’s still in here,” said Steve, with a smile. They stayed seated as the others vacated the conference room and the holograms of absent individuals shimmered out of existence. Steve leaned back in his chair, contemplative as he studied Bucky in turn. “What do you say we get out of here for a while?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They stopped by Steve’s quarters, where he retrieved a large duffle bag. With only a quick word to Romanoff, Steve led Bucky down to the garage and they got into a large SUV, tossed the duffle bag in the back, and drove off.

Bucky didn’t ask where they were headed, enjoying the comfort of Steve’s presence and the wind blowing from the window, the quiet of the open road. It wasn’t until they crossed the George Washington Bridge that Bucky began to suspect their destination. Forty minutes later they were parking near the baseball fields at Prospect Park. 

There was a roar of noise coming from the fields, and as they trudged across, Bucky saw several dozen Little League teams in a semblance of organized chaos. “What’s this?”

“I try to come out here a least a few times during the season,” said Steve, unzipping the duffle bag and handing Bucky a baseball cap and gloves. 

Steve approached a couple of the coaches and shook their hands, introducing Bucky as his friend. The children crowded around Steve, jumping up and down in excitement. “Okay, okay, come on,” he said, laughing. 

There were several games scheduled throughout the day. Steve helped with the T-Ball and Pee Wee divisions, but Bucky liked working with the teenagers who all pretended to be too cool to be impressed with Captain America. He cheered and whistled, called out plays, argued with umpires, treated two bee stings, one sprained ankle, a smattering of scrapes, and broke apart several fights before the day finally ended. 

He was helping pack up the team’s gear when Steve approached with a couple of hot dogs for each. 

“Thanks,” he said, meaning for more than the hot dogs.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. They waved good-bye to the others, then, reluctant to return to headquarters just yet, wandered through the park paths. Bucky moved in a direction he vaguely remembered, until he came upon a bench overlooking Long Meadow in the north and the lake in the south. There was a man selling ice cream from a cart. They bought two and sat on the bench. 

Bucky ate his ice cream in less than a minute, but Steve took his time, gazing out to the view. It was late afternoon on a Saturday but the park still held the peace and calm that Bucky remembered from when he was a kid. He had a sudden absurd urge to lay his head in Steve’s lap and before he thought better of it, did just that. 

Steve grinned down at him, resting his left arm lightly over Bucky’s chest and continuing to eat his ice cream. They watched a lazy Frisbee toss between a young crowd of friends on the hill below. Steve was looking at his phone, scrolling through messages, sometimes laughing, the motion causing Bucky’s head to shake. He showed Bucky the texts and photo messages that Wilson and Romanoff kept sending him, pictures of the two of them flipping him the bird or piggy-backing around the common room.

He gazed up at Steve, amused by the funny angle with a view up Steve’s nose. “Tell me about your girl,” he asked, quietly.

Steve flushed red, and shook his head. “There’s not really anything to tell. It’s, uh, more casual than that.”

“Casual’s okay,” said Bucky.

“Yeah, I know.” But Steve had a far away look on his face. Bucky knew Steve didn’t do casual very well. Never had, even as a kid. Steve was stubborn, and picky. If he gave his heart he gave all of it, no half measures, and was slow to recover from heartbreak. 

Just then his phone rang, the screen flashing Cooper’s name. Cooper called every day at the same time, four p.m. on the dot, and was ten times more mature about it than Bucky had been when calling Steve to check in. 

“Hey Coop,” he said, watching Steve take a selfie of himself eating ice cream to send back to Romanoff. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess,” said Cooper, and then he went into a long monologue about Nathaniel chewing the corners of one of his comic books that was now ruined and how he tried to give it to Lila but Lila didn’t want it now. 

“I’ll bring you more comics,” he said. 

“Nah,” said Cooper. “I’m above ‘meaningless materialistic possessions.’”

Cooper over pronounced each word. Bucky stifled a giggle, and asked, “Wow, where the hell did you get that from?”

“Mr. Stark came by to see Dad yesterday.”

Bucky thought that was rich, coming from a man who owned everything. “I’ll bring you a bunch more comics anyway.”

“Okay, thanks!” said Cooper, happy again, and Bucky felt a rush of fondness for the boy, wishing he was here and that he could have played soft ball on a team. The call ended with Bucky extracting a promise for Cooper to call again the next day. A pleasant silence settled as it grew chilly, the sun sinking lower in the sky. He closed his eyes and dozed, thinking of what he wanted to get for Cooper and for Lila when Steve put a hand over his forehead. 

“You ready to tell me what’s going on with you and Clint and Laura?”

Leave it to Steve to get right to the point. “No,” he said. 

“Fair enough,” answered Steve, congenially. 

Bucky groaned and covered his eyes. Those weeks at the farm felt like a dream, almost unreal, especially in contrast to life at headquarters, which was like waking up from that dream. But the farm didn’t exist outside reality in some fantasy setting. He knew this. Clint and Laura and the children were very real, and there were real consequences to his actions. 

Steve was gently carding through Bucky’s hair, patient as ever. Bucky knew Steve could out-stubborn just about anybody. “I guess,” he said after a long silence. “I guess I’m afraid of messing things up.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Steve. “Barton’s a smart guy, though. I mean, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would start something like this on a whim, just to get some jollies.”

“Jollies?” asked Bucky with a half-laugh, half-snicker. 

“Whatever. You know what I’m talking about.”

Bucky studied Steve. “You don’t have a problem with, uh, me being with Clint and Laura? I figured you would be against it.”

If he were being honest, Bucky was somewhat scandalized by it himself. He simultaneously believed his soul would burn in hell for his sinful ways while also believing he was merely engaging in an alternative lifestyle, with the two differing views superimposed one on top of the other. He was twelve times damned anyway. 

“Well,” said Steve, and he pulled a face, waggling his head. “I’m a progressive sort of guy.”

Bucky snorted. 

“Why does no one ever believe that?” asked Steve, aggrieved.

He chuckled, and patted Steve on his head. 

“Listen,” said Steve, more seriously. “It’s not like I know a lot about this sort of thing, and I don’t pretend to be an expert on relationships, but I do know one thing -- love doesn’t come by that often. And it doesn’t always look like what you thought it would. Sometimes, that makes it even more special. It’s usually worth the risk.”

Bucky felt his eyes sting, and he placed his two hands, metal and flesh, over Steve’s arm still draped across his chest. “You’re getting sappy in your old age.”

Steve huffed a laugh. 

“I don’t,” said Bucky, searching for words and the strength to say them. “How can I be worthy of… that, and also be the Winter Soldier? With everything I did? Everything I was. Am.”

He hadn’t yet spoken of his decades as the Winter Soldier to anyone. Steve grabbed him so suddenly Bucky nearly fell off the bench. He forced him to sit up so he could take hold of Bucky’s shoulders and shake him. 

“You are _not_ what Hydra made you. You are not responsible for any of it. Do you hear me? None of it was your fault.”

“Steve, I…” he gasped for words. 

“No!” Steve gripped Bucky so hard it almost hurt. He could feel the pressure on his metal arm. “No. Repeat after me. ‘I am not responsible for what Hydra did.’ Come on. I won’t let you take the blame for this, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m going to have to take your word for it,” he managed, his voice just barely above a rough whisper.

Frustrated, Steve looked around as if searching for reinforcements from the trees and the grass and the man selling ice cream a few feet away. “Listen to me.”

“I AM listening!” said Bucky, getting a little angry now. “I will never be clean of it, Steve. Never. Every moment of it is burned into my memory. After all those years of being wiped, now, I can never forget.”

“Stop it,” said Steve, pained. He was breathing noisily through his nose in frustration, and stared long and hard at Bucky. “All right,” he said, at last. “All right. As I see it, you have a choice.” 

Bucky listened to Steve with every fiber of his being, feeling as if he was holding on with just the end of his fingertips.

“You can choose to let what Hydra did govern your life, and everything you do. Or you can chose to leave it in the past, and move on. It can’t be erased, I know that, but it doesn’t have to be all there is. It’s your choice. And you have to be willing to choose it.”

He choked as he laughed. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

“I know you can do it,” said Steve, grabbing Bucky’s neck.

It seemed impossible to Bucky that it could be that simple and that difficult all at once. He wanted to argue. He wanted to say he didn’t have the strength for such a hard choice, that he was tired, but the longer he sat there as light faded, sitting with his oldest friend who, by some incredible miracle existed in the same time and space as him, the more a stubborn hope grew inside. He didn’t fool himself into believing it would be that easy, didn’t know if he could be that brave. But perhaps, with Steve -- with Clint, and Laura, and all the others, he could.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing. “I’ll try it your way.”

Steve collapsed against him as if he’d run a thousand miles, and they sat for several more minutes in silence propped up against each other. Without a lot of words between them, they started the long drive back to headquarters.

After that, life with the Avengers got easier for Bucky, and he was able to operate independent of Steve, settling into the work. He went on short missions with Wilson or with Romanoff. He liked Sam a lot, and spent much of his off time with him and Steve. He had good days and bad days, but they tipped in favor of the good. He spoke to Clint a few times, and texted him often, but he was shy about calling Laura. 

At the end of his second week, Romanoff requested he go with her for a covert surveillance assignment. They dressed in civilian clothes, trailing their target through a crowded outdoor shopping mall. 

“Target acquired,” she said, into her wrist comm. They strolled from store to kiosk to street vendor, keeping their target in sight, a nebbishy sort of man in his forties they knew was a low level executive for Pym Tech, a company that had been mentioned in recent Hydra intelligence. Natasha kept up a stream of nonsensical conversation that Bucky found hilarious and easy to join in.

“Janie is having an affair with her boss’s male Pilates instructor? Really?” he asked.

“I know,” she answered airily. “How am I supposed to compete with that?”

The man entered a Starbucks and got in line to order. Bucky and Romanoff followed and got in line as well, leaving a few people between them and their target. It was a long line, and would take several minutes to get through.

As they waited, Romanoff switched from sweet and girlfriendish one second to looking at him with a focus he recognized as deadly the next. She turned off their comm units. His gut tightened, and he held his breath. 

“Clint and Laura are my best friends,” she said. 

The threat was implied. He searched her face, and it surprised him to see a lack of jealousy. She had some right to be jealous, he thought. “They’re my best friends, too.”

She was unfathomable. He had no idea what she was thinking. She blinked, and then asked, “Do you remember Odessa?”

He didn’t dare look away. “I remember not wanting to kill you.”

Her lips twitched, and then all of a sudden she softened and took his hand in hers, rising on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Take it one day at a time, _Soldado_. No more than that. Got it?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “Got it.”

She switched their comms back on. “Ten bucks he orders a venti non-fat soy latte with extra caramel drizzle.”

“No bet,” said Bucky. 

“Hrmh. Spoil sport.”

The man reached the top of the line, finally, and ordered a venti non-fat soy latte with extra whipped cream. Natasha made a face. Bucky tried hard not to laugh. 

“I got this,” said Bucky, moving over to where customers waited for their orders to be filled. It took him less than thirty seconds to clone the man’s cell phone, place one active tracking chip on his collar, and a second passive tracer synced to the cloned phone into the man’s pocket. 

“Nice,” whispered Natasha over comms. “Mission accomplished. Widow and _El Soldado_ heading back to HQ.”

They received confirmations to their status, and left the coffee shop hand in hand. Twenty minutes later, they were crossing the atrium at headquarters when Bucky heard a high pitched voice yell, “Aunty Nat! James!”

Lila was running to them, jumping into Natasha’s arms, then stretching across to hug Bucky. 

“Oof,” said Natasha. “Where did this monkey come from?”

“Hey, kiddo,” said Bucky. “Look at you. It’s so good to see you.” He took her from Natasha, then saw Cooper waving as he too ran to meet them with Clint and Laura right behind. Laura was pushing Nathaniel in a stroller. He took in the sight of them, smiling hesitantly and pulling Cooper to his side with his arm around his shoulders. “It’s so good to see all of you. When did you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago. Uh,” said Clint, scratching at his head. “Well, Rogers called me in, but the kids didn’t want me to go, so…” He shrugged.

Bucky felt a momentary stab of guilt, knowing that not having him at the farm meant he’d more or less abandoned his post, or they might think so. But he had never stopped checking the farm’s security.

“I suggested it,” said Clint with a shake of his head as if he could read Bucky’s mind. Then, smiling broadly, he took Bucky’s head between his two hands before hugging him close. “You look good,” said Clint so only he could hear.

Bucky felt heat in his ears and tightened the hug, looking at Laura over Clint’s shoulder.

“Hey kids,” said Clint as he stepped back. “What do you say Aunt Nat and I take you on a tour of the place, huh?” 

Cooper and Lila chorused their excitement and agreement, with Lila jumping up and down. They moved off, leaving Bucky with Laura. 

They stared at each other before coming together, Laura resting her head against his chest. Bucky kissed her forehead. 

“I missed you,” he said. 

She smiled wryly. “It did take some getting used to, not having you around any more.”

Nathaniel was exercising his vocal range and doing his best to break free of the restraints keeping him in his stroller. Bucky bent down to set him free. “Hey there, big guy.”

Heaving a sigh, Nathaniel immediately fell silent in his arms. He smiled at Bucky, then tucked his head into the crook of his neck. 

They followed the others at a much slower pace, and Bucky led her to an alcove overlooking the atrium where they could have some privacy. It was a little awkward, but the baby made him smile, and when he looked over at her the tension eased between them. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said.

She shook her head. “I understood. But I was worried you were upset. Or angry. Clint said you weren’t.”

“No. Not at you.” He hesitated. “At myself? A little.”

She frowned, an expression he’d come to recognize as her way of showing deep disagreement. “James, you should be angry with me. I told you nothing was going to happen. We should never have pressured… why are you smiling?”

“You’re pretty when you’re riled up.”

Her frown deepened. “I’m serious. I broke faith with you—”

“What? No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. You should be...” She looked around at the constant activity happening on all levels of the building. “Free. To be with whomever you want to be with. And things between us can go back to what they were before. And you can visit, sometimes.”

His heart sped up. He watched her twist the strap of the diaper bag around in her hands. Nathaniel was talking to himself, playing with the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. “Are we best friends?” he asked her. 

She looked startled. “Yes.”

“Do you want things to go back to what they were before?” He used her words.

“No.” Her eyes lowered for a second, then rose back up to meet his. “But that doesn’t mean anything has to happen.”

“I get that.” She blushed, and he really wanted to kiss her. “Laura, I didn’t leave because of you. I left because of me.”

Her eyes sparkled, but she nodded. “Was it a good thing? Coming here?”

He signed. “It was necessary,” he said. “Rough at first. It’s okay now, though. Or getting there.”

“And you and Steve? Are the two of you okay?”

Steve was at that moment tossing Lila up in the air and catching her amidst much squealing. Bucky nodded, unable to put into words what he was feeling. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Then it was worth it.”

He took her hand in his, looking at her fingers, touched the soft skin of her wrist. “What would you like?”

She smiled. “My, is that an offer?”

He grinned at her. “Most definitely.”

“That famed Bucky Barnes charm has returned, I see. I was a history major in college, you know. I know all about you.”

His eyes widened. For a second time, he felt his ears grow hot. “It’s all exaggeration.”

She laughed and then he laughed, and he took her in his arms, squashing Nathaniel who only grunted in annoyance. 

“Come home for the weekend?”

“Yes.”


	3. PART 3

Bucky and Laura caught up with the others, Nathaniel asleep in his stroller. Sam and Maximoff appeared to say hi to the visitors. 

Natasha swung Lila’s arm as they held hands. “Hey,” she said to Clint and Laura. “Why don’t Lila and Cooper spend the night here with us? Give you guys a break.”

Lila turned big hopeful eyes at her parents, chanting something that sounded like “oh please oh please oh please” while prancing in place beside Natasha.

Clint and Laura and Bucky looked at each other with slight embarrassment. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Steve. “I’m pretty sure we can manage to keep them alive for twenty-four hours.”

Bucky began to suspect a sneaky plot underfoot, but Steve looked the picture of innocence. God help them all if Steve decided to turn matchmaker. 

“Don’t look at me,” said Steve, his hands up in protest. “This is all Natasha’s doing.”

That wasn’t a whole lot better. A few more awkward glances bounced around the group before Laura spoke. “Cooper, Lila, would you like to stay with Aunt Nat and Steve and Sam?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Both kids jumped up and down. 

Clint stood with his hands on his hips. “You do everything Nat and Steve tell you to do, without question. No fighting,” he added, sternly.

Cooper and Lila were beside themselves with excitement and could barely manage to answer their father until Laura said if they couldn’t behave like rational human beings, they would all return home instead. The adults, Sam especially, were trying not to laugh. 

“All right,” said Clint, good-naturedly. “Bunch of rascals. Give us a hug and kiss.”

They hugged Clint and Laura. “And James, too,” said Laura, quietly. 

It wasn’t until then that the kids realized Bucky would be going back with their parents. Lila switched tracks without a hitch, climbing into Bucky’s arms to give him a hug before dancing back to Nat. Cooper was less certain. 

“You’re going back with Mom and Dad? You’re not staying here?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, bending slightly. “Is that okay?”

Cooper rolled his eyes, then nodded. “I guess.” He clearly thought Bucky was nuts to prefer home to Avengers Headquarters. 

Bucky leaned in so only Cooper could hear. “Ask Sam to take you up with his wings.”

His eyes got big and he said, “Oh, boy.”

Clint had turned to Natasha. “You too,” he said, holding out his arms. “Give us a hug and kiss.”

“Dream on, Romeo.” She fended him off, giving him a playful punch to the gut that seemed to nevertheless hurt, judging by Clint’s suddenly red face. The kids laughed.

A short while later they were in the air speeding back to the farm. Bucky expected a certain degree of awkwardness, with the looming anticipation of what they were probably going to be doing in a few hours, but Clint and Laura were practically giddy with freedom from their older children, and their happiness continued the entire trip home.

Walking up to the steps of the house, the quinjet lifting away, Bucky gaped at the now completed porch. “You finished it?” he said Clint.

“Oh, yeah. Just yesterday. Come look,” he said, and he and Clint inspected the porch, still a little tacky from the recent paint job. “Of course, I’m going to have to paint the whole house now. I mean, not only does the porch not match, the new siding over on the front doesn’t match either. But come see inside.”

Clint showed him what he’d been getting up to without Bucky. “I have to finish Laura’s room next or she might kill me,” he said with an amused glance in her direction.

She had gone upstairs to put Nathaniel down but returned in time to glare at him. 

“Not much left to do,” said Bucky, knocking on the walls of the converted dining room, sliding his hand down to check the texture. “Sand, paint, fix the warp in the flooring. We should demo that old built-in, though. Maybe put in a desk?”

“I’m convinced it’ll never be finished,” said Laura.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Clint rubbed her arms. 

Bucky, not yet feeling he could take such liberties, merely said, “It’ll get done.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said, but by her smile he knew she was teasing. 

“Aw,” said Clint, following Laura into the kitchen, making her laugh with affectionate kisses to her neck. “Admit it, you love it.”

“I’ll admit no such thing,” she said as she pushed him away and started handing him items from the ‘fridge. “Just for that, you’re fixing dinner.”

Clint didn’t complain, and good-naturedly began to set out a quick meal. It ended up being all three of them in the kitchen helping, with Bucky mostly staying out of the way, watching the two of them. Clint wanting to know how things were at headquarters. 

“Tense,” said Bucky. The team itself was pretty good at compartmentalizing their roles as Avengers away from their private lives, allowing some semblance of normalcy. One on one with civilians, people loved Captain America. They loved Falcon, and Iron Man, and everyone else. But there was no denying the public image of the Avengers had deteriorated severely. “Some magazine article came out yesterday, had everyone pretty upset.”

“I saw it,” said Clint, shaking his head, pulling down plates and setting the table. “Nat sent it to me.”

“Knowing Hydra’s behind it doesn’t make it any easier for Steve,” said Bucky as he took his seat at the table with them. It seemed to him that if Hydra couldn’t destroy the Avengers with brute force, they had decided to attack with words and images and public outcry. 

“It’ll all come to a head somehow,” said Clint.

“And the two of you have to be in the middle of it?” asked Laura. “It was bad enough when I just had one to worry about.”

They both looked at her. “We already tried walking away,” said Clint.

She narrowed her eyes at them. “My two heroes. What am I going to do?”

As she smiled, the energy at the table changed into a quiet, waiting frisson.

“I guess we’re here at last,” said Clint, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, looking first at Laura, then at Bucky. 

No one seemed to know what to do next. Then, Clint cleared his throat.

“First,” he said, and he focused entirely on Bucky. Bucky was alarmed to see the tears in his eyes. “I want you to know both Laura and I think of you as family. Whatever happens going forward, that doesn’t change. Agreed?”

He found it impossible to speak, but forced himself to do so anyway. There was a deep, solid ache in his chest, so long buried he only now realized that blood was once again pumping through his heart. He’d had nothing. And then he had Steve again. And now he had Clint and Laura. “Steve. And you. Laura. Family. Agreed.”

Bucky swiped roughly at his eyes, and saw Clint do the same thing. Laura had let her tears spill, but she picked up a napkin from the table, and wiped them away.

“Second,” said Clint, this time focusing on Laura. “I don’t--If I’m away on assignment or on a mission, and James is here with you, it’s up to the two of you what you choose to do or not do. I’m not setting limitations.”

Laura was also finding it difficult to speak. She folded and unfolded the napkin in her hands. “No limitations,” she agreed. “For you and James, when you’re off Avenging without me.”

They turned to face Bucky, and he sat up straight. “I will walk out that door,” he pointed to the front door, “If for a second whatever this is begins to affect your marriage. I’m not kidding. For the kids. For myself. You put that first. I wouldn’t,” and he swallowed. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He had to wipe at his eyes again, his heart thumping painfully in his revitalized chest. He had a vague idea no one could force a marriage to be successful, but he’d be damned if Clint and Laura’s ended because of him. 

“Promise me,” he asked through a closed throat, blinded by unshed tears and unable to look at them. 

“We promise,” said Laura, and she reached across the table to grasp his hand. 

They were silent for a long time, until Clint said, “All right. Now that _that’s_ out of the way.”

And Bucky started to laugh. So did Laura, and they were all suddenly laughing. Clint continued, asking if there were other things they should discuss: kissing on the mouth, did they need a safe word, should Bucky wear a condom, sexual acts they didn’t like or did like as the case may be. Bucky had never had such a frank discussion about sex without actually having sex, and at one point he and Clint began giggling uncontrollably. Then he remembered that there was a seventy-year gap between now and the last time he was even remotely in a sexual relationship. What experiences he’d had during the Hydra years had been few and quick and brutal, lacking everything but release, and not even that sometimes. His entire insides seized up and he was finding it hard to breathe. 

“James?” asked Laura in the sudden quiet. “What’s wrong?”

Laura was always so perceptive. He’d noticed that. With effort, he looked at her and at Clint, then closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about this while also looking at them. “It’s been over seventy years for me. Everything, uh, works. At least, on my own it works. But, if you’re expecting the Bucky Barnes from history books….” He shook his head. 

There was a beat of silence. Then, Clint snapped out a forceful, “Hey,” and Bucky recognized it as an order to look at him. He opened his eyes. “One day at a time. No more,” said Clint.

And it was like someone had unplugged a cork and the pressure released. He shuddered as he nodded. He’d forgotten. One day at a time. No more than that. 

Laura rose from her seat, came around the table, and bent down to kiss him. He trembled, reaching for her, and she sat in his lap as the kiss continued, hungry and raw. They parted, and he was breathing with difficulty, seeking to kiss her again. Blindly, he reached for Clint. Laura slid off his lap, leaving him, but Clint was there, and they were standing. Clint kissed him once, then twice, then a third time and Bucky whimpered into his mouth. 

He was aware of the lights being turned off, and then they were moving up the stairs into the bedroom. Clint stepped away and stripped at lightning speed. Bucky was still wearing the civilian clothes from earlier, and he fumbled with buttons.

“Here, let me,” said Clint, kissing him again as he quickly did away with Bucky’s shirt. Bucky scraped his right hand down Clint’s side. Then, Laura was there. She’d disappeared but was there again, reaching for his belt buckle.

“Hi,” he said, dipping to kiss her. He thought he could kiss both of them in turns for hours. He helped shove his pants and underwear down, kicked off his shoes.

He turned back to Clint who was as naked as he was, with miles of bare skin. They embraced, and Clint rested his head on Bucky’s metal shoulder. 

“This seems to be working just fine,” said Clint, cupping their erections together. Bucky grunted, rutting into his hand. “Wait,” said Clint, turning him around. “Look at her.”

Laura was standing in the moonlight, watching with wide eyes. Clint guided Bucky’s hand to cup her cheek, then down her neck, skimming over her breast, lifting her shirt up and over her head. Clint unclasped her bra, and let it fall to the floor, before moving to unzip her slacks.

Bucky used the back of his metal hand to stroke over each breast, then down to her stomach. He switched to his other hand. Her skin was soft, and the nipples puckered. 

Finally free of her clothing, Bucky lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapped around his body, and carried her to the bed. He was shaking. After the long wait, and the emotional toll of their earlier conversation, a frenetic, jagged energy sparked off his skin. None of them were capable of much finesse. He didn’t think he would last long. He lay beside Laura, smelling her arousal for the first time. It was sensory overload, so many memories breaking free, and he covered his face.

“Shhh,” said Clint, on his other side. “Tell us if you want us to stop.”

A soft, petite hand trailed down his chest, lightly touching around the scars where metal met flesh. Down to his stomach, to his hip and thighs, to his cock that had lost some of its erection. Laura cupped him, sidling close to kiss his nose, his lips, to whisper his name. Clint was running his hands down Bucky’s back, to his ass, forcing a thigh in between Bucky’s legs until he spread them open. He gasped when Clint’s hard cock thrust against him. He hardened again all at once. 

Bucky opened his eyes and gazed at Laura, bathed in moonlight. He rolled into her just enough to take her in a kiss, reaching to hold her close, feeling her breasts against his chest. Clint’s rough, calloused hand stroked Bucky’s cock. Bucky arched, grunted into Laura’s mouth, coming painfully, gasping for breath. 

Clint was breathing hard, holding still as Bucky’s heart slowed down before flipping over to Laura’s other side. He did the same thing to her that he’d done to Bucky, spreading her legs wide, both arms holding her around her chest. Bucky saw Clint’s cock rub between Laura’s wet folds. She shuddered, her head falling back as he pushed in. 

She was trembling, her movements uncoordinated. Clint held her tight, breasts over his arms, his forehead buried in her hair.

“James,” she said, and Bucky swooped in and kissed her, swallowing her cries. She fumbled for his hand, gripping it tight and bringing it between her legs. He pressed his fingers against her, sliding around Clint’s hard cock thrusting into her. Clint swore, moving faster as Laura convulsed, keening and then fell silent from lack of air as her orgasm gushed out of her. A second later, Clint came, hard and fast. 

They lay as they were, breath slowly returning to normal. “I’d call that a success,” said Clint, and Bucky smiled into the damp warmth of Laura’s neck. 

~~~

 

Laura woke in the middle of the night, in bed next to Clint. James wasn’t there, the space on Clint’s other side vacant and lonely, but there was still a trace of warmth. Something had woken her, a noise, but as she sat up and listened she couldn’t hear anything. A breeze rattled the window, shadows shifting and swaying. The clock on the bedside table said it was just past four in the morning. 

She got out of bed, leaving Clint sound asleep on his stomach, and searched for her robe in the disordered mess of three sets of clothing strewn around the room. She stepped into the hallway, moving silently past Cooper and Lila’s empty bedrooms. As much as she was grateful for the short break from parenting, she felt a small pang of loss at their absence. 

There was movement inside Nathaniel’s room, and she approached slowly, pushing the door open. A figure stood near the center of the room. Laura recalled a night not too long in the past, and the fear she had felt at a specter of a ghost by the baby’s bed. But this time there was no mistaking James, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, cradling Nathaniel in the crook of his metal arm as he swayed gently. 

“I heard him through the monitor,” said James, turning as she entered the room. “Didn’t want to wake you. Sorry.”

She shook her head, looking close at Nathaniel’s sleepy little face. His diaper had been changed, and she saw a half-finished bottle resting on the changing table. “You didn’t.” 

James put Nathaniel back down in his crib. She bent to adjust his blankets, rearranging the stuffed animals so they didn’t crowd him, and checked the monitor again. When she looked up she saw that James had been watching her with a gleam in his eye that made her ache. She hadn’t bothered to tie her robe, and it fell open. He slipped his right hand inside, warm against her skin, before bending for a kiss. 

The kiss quickly escalated, desire for him pulling at her insides. She took his hand, and they moved through the darkened hallway, returning to the bedroom, resuming the kiss as soon as they were inside. The robe slipped away and she pressed against him, shivering and wanting more. She pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his waist, raising his arms above his head so she could balance. 

“Wait,” he said, sitting up, pressing his face into the space between her breasts. “We need--” and he was looking around. 

Clint, awake now, grabbed a box from the bedside table. “Here,” he said, shaking a condom out, pressing it into James’s hand. 

With shaking fingers, James ripped the package, took out a condom, and rolled it on. She held his erect penis, and rubbed it up and down, getting it wet. 

“Look at me,” she said. His eyes had been glued to his cock, but he raised them to meet hers. Dark eyes, a different blue than Clint’s, held a wonder-filled, almost pained look. They kissed, and she lowered herself down to the root. 

She breathed through the sensation of being filled, adjusting to the feel of him, sitting up to change the angle. A distant part of her catalogued the differences between James inside of her, and Clint. Clint was thicker, but James’s cock pressed against her cervix, and she gasped, grinding down and arching back at the same time. She started off slow, but then increased speed, her vision blurred, reaching for balance. 

Clint lay next to James. Through the fog of arousal, she touched both men, scraping her hands down their chests, riding out her pleasure faster and faster until she spilled over, rising up and off to reduce the overwhelming sensation. James slipped out and she collapsed, still convulsing as Clint held her in his arms and kissed her. 

She was dimly aware that James hadn’t come yet, and the next thing she knew she was on her back, Clint beside her, her legs spread wide as James swiped his tongue through her wet vagina. She cried out. He was gentle but insistent. She turned to Clint, one hand clutching at him and the other reaching for James. Clint murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her face, then bending down to suck on one nipple. She came, jerking uncontrollably, pushing away and closing her legs. 

As thought and reason returned, she rolled into Clint’s embrace. He kissed her, then made a noise she instantly recognized. Rising up to glance at the bottom of the bed, she saw that James was between Clint’s legs, swallowing the whole of his erection. It didn’t take long before Clint swore loudly, reaching to cup James’s head with both his hands as he thrust into his mouth. 

“Fucking Christ,” said Clint, collapsing back, his penis wet and glistening and spent. 

James sat up looking tousled, his lips a dark red, shining in the dim light of the room. Laura felt the tense energy vibrating through him, and saw his erection jutting forward. 

“Come here,” she said, pulling him on top of her. 

He raised his body up to remove the used condom. “I can just—” he started, rubbing against her hip. She found the box of condoms and quickly took a second one. He seemed hesitant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“Yes,” she said, rolling the condom on then reaching to hold him close.

He positioned himself, then pushed in. His breath was high and fast, and he moved with barely held control, his eyes shadowed, searching hers. She took his metal hand, brought it up to cup her cheek, and he closed his eyes as he came, pushing in deep. 

~~~

An insistent splash of sunlight succeeded in waking Clint. He was alone in his bedroom, naked as a jaybird. He could see that someone had picked up the mess of clothing they’d left on the floor. The house felt unusually still without Cooper and Lila thundering up and down the stairs. He showered, then got dressed, feeling hazy and warm and buzzing from everything that had happened.

In the living room, he found Laura and Nathaniel in the middle of a sea of toys in a cleared area in front of the couch. Nathaniel was one happy baby, getting his mother’s undivided attention for once. 

Their eyes met and Clint felt his usual overflowing love for her, but this time multiplied by ten. She smiled, turned Nathaniel around, and said, “Look, its Daddy. Say hi to Daddy.”

Nathaniel beamed, gurgled a word resembling ‘daddy’ and wobbled on two legs for a moment before plopping down and crawling rapidly over to him. 

“Hey buddy,” said Clint, picking up his son and throwing him over his shoulder. Nathaniel squealed in high-pitched laughter. Continuing to toss Nathaniel up and over, he looked around. “Where’s James?”

Laura pursed her lips. “He was here a minute ago. You just missed him. He’s doing whatever he does outside, probably in the barn.”

Clint settled Nathaniel on his shoulder. “How was it?”

She didn’t pretend not to understand, eyeing him as she began to gather some of the toys. “A little weird. He was shy at first. It was cute,” she grinned. 

“And you?” She wasn’t typically shy with him about their sex life, but this was different.

She sighed, looking down at her hands holding a purple plastic ring with the head of a hippopotamus before dropping it in a bin with the other toys. “It was so much more than I expected. The entire evening.”

Considering his body was still humming, he knew what she was talking about. “Is that a good thing?”

She started laughing at him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to keep a hold of Nathaniel who had wiggled onto his other shoulder, tiny hands clasped around his neck. Kid was going to be strong.

“You. You’re always trying to get things to fall into either ‘good’ or ‘bad.’”

He grunted. “A lot simpler that way.”

She came to him and put her arms around his waist. “It’s nice you think so.”

“Well?” he asked, nuzzling and kissing her on the neck so she squirmed away from his unshaven cheek. “Is it a good thing?”

More kisses. “It’s not a bad thing,” she said. Then, her tone changed. “I think he’s planning on going back with Natasha when she comes with the kids later.”

Clint thought she was probably right. She usually was. Just then Nathaniel had succeeded pulling himself up high enough on Clint’s back to grin at Laura. “Mama.”

They both laughed, and Clint flipped Nathaniel over, handing him to Laura, before heading for the door. “I’ll go and bring him back in,” he said.

In the barn, he strode over to the false wall and knocked. There was complete silence for several seconds, then the wall detached and slid back, revealing James. 

“You coming out?”

“Do I have a choice?” James asked, wryly. 

“No,” said Clint, very relieved to see James’s give an easy smile and meet his eyes without hesitation. Clint didn’t allow for any awkwardness to take hold, pulling James in for a kiss and a hug. “How’s everything going in there,” he asked, sticking his head into the tiny room. 

The tech equipment, most of which he was at least partially familiar with, hummed quietly to itself. When he turned around he saw a look of concern flicker across James’s face. 

“What is it?”

James held up a calming hand. “Nothing. The security on the farm is good. It’s just… It’s almost too good.”

Clint folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the tractor, one leg bent, and watched James pace back and forth, the light beams from the gaps in the barn falling intermittently across his face. Dust motes swirled around his head. “How do you figure?”

“I know Hydra,” said James. “They’re not going to waste time on the farm now. It’s too secure. The probability of success is too low. But that just means they’re going to hit something else, or somewhere else, focus on another weak point.”

James was pacing himself into agitation, although Clint didn’t blame him. The small pool of fear in the pit of his stomach, the one that had been there ever since the attack, threatened to overflow. But, he and Laura had decided they would try their best not to live in fear. 

“We’ll just have to be better than they are,” he said. “I’d put my money on you any day.”

“It won’t be enough.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile, moving to catch James. “It never will be. You’re going to have to live with that.” James deflated with a sigh and Clint brought his arms around him. “I know,” he said, gripping his neck. “I know.”

He kissed James’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, his nose. Then, he tasted his lips, grunting when James stuck his tongue into his mouth and they began to pull at each other. 

“You know,” he said. “If last night was you off your game, I’m not sure I’m going to survive with you on point.”

James blushed spectacularly. “I think you’ll manage.”

“I’m not so sure. Joke’s on me, though, inviting a super soldier into my bed. What was I thinking? I’m going to have to start taking vitamins.”

James was laughing. Clint had every intention of keeping it simple. To keep it comforting and calm. But there was something in the way James looked at him when they kissed -- a dark, sensuous longing -- that took Clint from zero to sixty in less than a heartbeat. He was so hard so fast he thought he might go blind.

They tugged at their clothes, shirts pushed up and over, pants unbuttoned and unzipped. James whimpered into Clint’s mouth as he pulled out his cock, taking it in hand. 

“Jesus,” said James, thrusting into his grip. “Your hand feels so good, do you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asked, amused that James would get that worked up about a hand job. Then he quit thinking as James managed to pull out his dick with his metal hand. Clint looked down and grew faint at the sight. 

They both panted, pushing their faces into each other’s necks. Pre-come spilled, and Clint’s hand moved faster. 

“Give it to me,” he said. He wanted to see James’s face when he came. Their eyes met and James made a filthy noise, erupting over Clint’s fingers, spraying onto his stomach. Clint had never much considered a guy beautiful when he came before, but James was fucking gorgeous. A second later, Clint bit at James’s lip, and came. 

After catching his breath, James shamelessly wiped off both their chests with a corner of his shirt before tucking Clint away nice and neat and doing the same for himself. He kissed up Clint’s chest, licking at his neck, an admiring smirk in his eyes. 

“I’m definitely in trouble,” he said, lips twitching. “You going back with Nat?”

James sighed, separating to dig around in the little security room. “I think it’s probably best,” he said when he came out, pulling on one of Clint’s old henleys. “This thing is a little hot. We should take it slow.”

“A _little_ hot? I hadn’t noticed.”

Clint reached for James’s hand and squeezed it, before fishing for his own shirt to put back on. 

“I’m starving,” he said. “Let’s go bother Laura.”

That made James laugh, and they headed back to the house. 

~~~

A week later at headquarters, Bucky’s phone rang in the early hours of the morning, flashing Clint’s name. 

“I’m coming in. Nat and Steve want me there for the 9 a.m. meeting.”

“Okay,” he said, a warm anticipation at seeing Clint sparking in his lower back. “What about Laura?”

“Stark’s flying us. Steve wants him there, too. Pepper, you know Stark’s girlfriend, invited Laura and the kids to New York City for the day. They’ll be good there.”

They didn’t go into how Laura still didn’t want to remain at the homestead alone without Bucky or Clint there as well. Clint hadn’t pressed the issue and Bucky struggled with wanting Laura to have all the freedom of movement she might like while also preferring to keep them secure and safe. He didn’t like her going to New York, even though for the most part he trusted Stark. All the trust in the world didn’t mean that Laura and the kids wouldn’t be vulnerable. But it was unreasonable to expect they would only travel between the farm and headquarters, the two places Bucky felt were truly secure. He knew what that was like, not having freedom, and he didn’t want that for Laura. 

But his instincts were screaming. And it didn’t help that, when he arrived, Clint was as jumpy and nervous as he was. He had long since given Clint the same access to the security protocols set for everyone in his family, and they both pulled out their phones frequently during the briefing to make sure the signal was strong and that all the redundant tracking devices were active and transmitting. 

“I asked her to text us,” said Clint, as both their phones beeped. Laura wrote they were thinking of going shopping. Then they would have lunch. Later, they might play in the pool. 

Hill was going quickly through profiles of suspected Hydra connections that had come up in recent intel, flagging the ones the team thought were of real concern. Bucky sat on edge, unable to concentrate until a face he recognized popped up on the screen.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up, his chair creaking. “I know that man.”

“Mitchell Carson?” Hill asked. She had been about to move on to the next profile. “He used to be S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“He’s Hydra,” said Bucky to Steve, and the entire room fell silent, staring at him. 

“You’re sure?” asked Hill. “Carson? The ex head of defense?”

“Maria,” said Steve, who’d tensed up beside Bucky. “Do we really need a refresher on the seventy some odd years Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. were basically the same thing?”

“Of course not. It’s just, the only reason he’s on this list is that he showed up on the phone records for that Pym Tech executive. We don’t have much on him.” She was looking at Bucky.

He could have said that he’d never known his name. Could have described for her seeing Carson standing beside a younger Pierce as they met in secret bunkers. He could have told her how Carson had given the order to assassinate Howard and Maria Stark. He looked at Stark, sitting at the other end of the table. Tony’s eyes grew hard and bright. “I’m sure.”

At that moment, a claxon alarm rang through the building just as the screen on both his and Clint’s phone flashed red. 

“What is it?” asked Steve, rising to join Hill.

Bucky looked at his phone. The GPS dots for Laura and the kids were concentrated in Columbus Circle, but their heart rates and pulse had all jumped way past what a regular excited kid would have. His phone flashed Cooper’s name. He was trying to call. 

“Cooper?” he asked, but there was noise and confusion at the other end, then the line cut off. Before he even realized it, he and Clint were standing. 

“We’re getting reports of an attack at the mall in Columbus Circle,” said Hill, listening to her earpiece, pulling up the streaming reports onto the screen. 

“Stark,” yelled Clint, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to call Laura. “Call Pepper.” 

Stark was already doing so. “She’s not answering. Neither is her head of security. FRIDAY?” Stark tapped his earpiece. “What have you got for me?” He stepped over to where his Iron Man suit waited, and it closed around him. “Come on,” he said to Clint and Bucky. “I can take one of you. Vision can take the other.”

But the Vision said, “Wanda can do it faster.”

Everyone looked at the Maximoff girl. Bucky hadn’t had much interaction with her. She had so far stayed out of his way, and seemed inclined to remain quiet by the Vision’s side. But Bucky knew Nathaniel was in part named after her brother who’d died protecting Clint, and Clint tended to think of her as a kid sister. 

“I…” she started, unsure, looking at Clint. 

“She’s not ready,” said Natasha, but that seemed to give Wanda resolve. 

“I can do it.” She moved to stand before Clint and Bucky. “Concentrate on your son,” and she put one hand each on their chests, gripping their shirts. 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he knew what was about to happen, but he had an inkling. He turned to Steve. “Come as fast as you can,” he said, then closed his eyes and concentrated hard on Cooper.

He would never be able to describe the sensation of teleporting across hundreds of miles. It was beyond disorienting, and the entire world swirled in red-hazed confusion as he landed hard on the tiles of the shopping center. The bright white fluorescent lights and colorful marquees of the many different shops added to the confusion. He was on his knees, shaking his head to clear it. 

Beside him, Wanda had also fallen to the floor, looking pale, apparently fatigued from teleporting not only herself but two others such a long distance. Clint was struggling to rise to his feet. 

They were on the top floor of the mall. People ran in all directions, but Bucky zeroed in on a scream coming from across the floor. He saw two women who looked like they could be Laura and Pepper, fending off several individuals dressed in Avengers’ costumes. Bucky’s fury that they would stoop to that level cleared his head. 

“Over there,” he said to Clint, leaning down to help Wanda.

She shook her head, wincing, and waved them off.

Leaving Wanda, they ran to the other side of the mall. Bucky grabbed the first man from behind and broke his neck before the other hostiles realized they were under attack. He and Clint had left so suddenly, neither had their gear or usual arsenal of weapons, but Bucky always carried a couple of knives, and he threw one at the throat of the man dressed as Captain America. Beside him, Clint fought two on one. Through the chaos, Bucky saw Pepper standing in front of Laura, her arms spread to cover her. Lila was crouched in a ball behind them.

He didn’t see Cooper or Nathaniel anywhere. Frantic, he searched the crowds. He couldn’t stop to check his phone. 

“James!” said Laura, her eyes wide and fearful. She pointed over the side of the railing to the lower floors just as Nathaniel’s loud cry echoed throughout the mall. Bucky spotted Cooper being dragged by two men down an escalator, a third carrying Nathaniel. There were two others with them. 

“Clint,” he called. 

“Go,” yelled Clint, engaged with the remaining men.

Bucky leaped over the railing, falling through air to land with a loud thud in the center of the ground floor. The men were dragging Cooper toward the exit. He ran to intercept but skidded to a halt as they turned their machine guns on him, one man pointing a gun at Cooper’s head and another doing the same to Nathaniel.

“Let them go,” said Bucky, a few feet away. He was aware that the entire mall was watching: shoppers with their shopping bags, teenagers, shop owners and salesmen. After the noise and confusion when they’d first arrived, the silence of the crowd pulsed as if everyone held their breath.

The man holding Cooper sneered, and Bucky realized with sickening dread that he was dressed in an outfit made to look like Hawkeye. “Our orders were, if we couldn’t take them, to kill them in public, and make it look like their father and his friends had done it. Good press. Do you really want that?”

Bucky didn’t recognize the man, but recognized his type -- a typical Hydra STRIKE team recruit, willing to follow orders no matter how heinous. They were all bullies, at the end of the day. But if they were willing to kill children to further Hydra’s cause, all bets were off. “If you let them go, I might not kill you,” he lied.

The fake Hawkeye laughed, then forced Cooper to his knees, his gun pointed straight at the back of Cooper’s head. The spectators cried out in collective horror. Cooper was breathing very hard, his entire body shaking, but he wasn’t crying. He was looking directly at Bucky. 

“Wait!” cried Bucky, holding his hands out. Above him he heard Laura trying to get past Clint. He felt sick that she was watching. “Wait,” he said again, quieter, standing straight. He glanced up, met Clint’s eyes across the open distance -- a whiplash of understanding passed between them, and he heard Clint curse. Clint wouldn’t leave Laura and Lila until reinforcements came -- then returned his attention to the fake Hawkeye. He had to do this before Clint could get down to the ground floor, before the others arrived. “Take me instead.”

“And who are you?”

Did he look that different now? He’d worn his work out clothes to the briefing, a black, form fitting long-sleeved shirt. The morning seemed so long ago. Bucky took hold of his left sleeve and tore it off, revealing the metal arm. “I’m the Winter Soldier.”

Tension rippled through the STRIKE team. They gripped their weapons a little harder, held them higher. The fake Hawkeye assessed him for a moment, then spoke to someone through his communication device. He received an answer quickly. “Deal.”

Bucky allowed himself to relax slightly as Cooper was given Nathaniel to carry. The men kept their guns aimed on Cooper, but Bucky had no intention of backing down from the deal, walking forward.

Cooper started to cry, realizing what was happening. 

“Hey,” said Bucky as soon as he and Cooper got closer. 

Cooper was trying to speak, shaking his head, struggling with Nathaniel’s weight. Nathaniel was crying too, but quieter now.

“It’ll be all right,” said Bucky, blocking the view of the men as he took the glove he’d given Cooper from his hand, slipping it on his own. “Your mom and sister are okay. Your dad’s with them. Go. Run.” 

Cooper nodded, walking backwards. 

Bucky didn’t protest when they restrained him, keeping his eyes on Cooper’s retreating figure. Above, on the top floor, Wanda had recovered and stood with Laura and Pepper. Clint sprinted down the escalators. He would be too late. But that was what Bucky wanted. A second later, he felt a pin prick in his neck, and everything went dark. The last thing he saw was Clint taking Cooper and Nathaniel in his arms, then turning to look at him.

~~~

Clint watched the Hydra STRIKE team leave with James’s unconscious body, disappearing through the exit to the parking structure. He hoisted Nathaniel onto his arm and took out his phone, already moving with Cooper by his side as he spoke. “Stark,” he said, running back up the escalators. “Family safe, but they took Barnes.”

Stark cursed, and there was a mishmash of orders being yelled. Clint could hear Steve asking questions.

“They went down through the parking garage,” said Clint, reaching the mall’s top floor and rushing over to Laura and Pepper. He met Wanda’s eyes and indicated they should get moving. “No idea what vehicles they have.”

“Get to the roof of the apartment building,” said Stark, as Clint and Wanda lead Laura and Pepper and the children to the correct bank of elevators. “We’ll be there in two minutes.”

In the elevator, he took a moment to hug his family to him, still carrying Nathaniel. Laura, white faced, held Cooper against her stomach. Lila was in Pepper’s arms. Wanda was watching from the side.

“We’ll get him back,” he said to Laura, his free arm cradling her head before he rested it on Cooper’s shoulder. “Trust James. He knew what he was doing.” 

Laura nodded. 

“Dad?” said Cooper.

But Clint turned to Pepper. “Thank you,” he said, “For protecting my family. I’m sorry about your men.” He knew Pepper traveled with a three-man security detail whenever she was in public. They must have been taken out. 

Pepper had unshed tears in her eyes, but otherwise was her usual polished and professional self. “Please don’t thank me,” she said. “I’m so sorry. We should never have…”

He shook his head. “If it hadn’t been today, it would have been some other time.” He shoved down his overwhelming fear mixed with relief and anger, concentrating on Lila’s tear splattered face. He gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “We’ll get through this.”

Lila smiled weakly, then reached for him, twisting out of Pepper’s arms, so he traded her Nathaniel for Lila. Lila wrapped her legs around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Dad,” said Cooper, a second time. 

“What is it, son?” he asked, but the elevator arrived at the uppermost floor of the adjacent building. He led them to the access stairs for the roof, Wanda taking up the rear. She used her powers to open the door to the roof. The wind whipped around their heads as the quinjet materialized, swiveling to land a few feet away. 

“Hey,” he said to Wanda as they all jogged to the quinjet. “That was some magic earlier. Never do that to me again.”

Wanda gave him a tired smile, climbing into the quinjet. He settled Lila with Laura, pausing to kiss them both, before striding to the main cabin. Pepper remained with Laura.

“We’re scanning traffic cameras in the area,” said Stark, “and FRIDAY’s monitoring all communications in the immediate vicinity. Hill’s coordinating with local authorities from HQ. Nothing yet.” 

“Check all tunnels and bridges in and out of Manhattan,” Clint added. “And all air strips in the tri-state. 

Steve leaned in, a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “No drug will work on him for long,” he said to both Clint and Stark. “They’ll need to get him off the grid quickly.”

“Roger all of that,” said Stark, busy with the computers. “Romanoff, I could use your help.” 

Nat, who had been attending to Laura, gave Clint a look as she passed to join Stark. 

“Dad,” said Cooper, who had appeared at his side.

Clint glanced at his son. “Just a minute, Coop.” He turned to Steve. “He knew what he was doing,” he said. “He offered himself, in exchange for the boys. Like he planned it. He wanted them to take him.”

Steve seemed to wilt, his eyes darkening. “He probably figured it was the only way to get to the bottom of this, stop Hydra targeting your family.”

Cooper was tugging at his sleeve. “You know him best,” Clint said, and Steve’s shadowed eyes met his. “What else do you think he’s planning?”

“DAD!” yelled Cooper, and everyone turned to look at him. Cooper held out his phone. “He took the glove he gave me.”

A beat followed, then Stark grabbed the phone and said, “It must have one of the passive tracking devices. Barton, your son is smarter than you are.”

Cooper sighed and Clint knelt down and squeezed him tight. Stark synced the phone to the quinjet’s systems, and a moment later a GPS map appeared on screen. 

“Can you track him?” asked Steve.

“Let’s see. Barnes insisted on both active and passive tracking devices,” said Stark, typing very fast. “With redundancies, so in the event one or more than one is destroyed or discovered, there would be a back up. This one is set to ping every hour to the secure network at HQ, as long as it has a signal.”

“Stark,” Clint said. They didn’t need a primer on tracking devices. He knew already how they worked. His calm was slipping through his fingers and he felt sick with nervous energy. “What do you have?”

“Calm your tits, Barton. We,” he added with a flourish, jabbing at the keyboard, “can also send it a ping and get a reply back. What?” he said at the looks they were all giving him, and rolled his eyes at Steve. “He and I do talk, on occasion. Friendly little chats. Exchange recipes. You know, the usual. I gave him all the tech.”

“Got him,” said Nat, who had been ignoring everyone as she worked. Clint moved to look over her shoulder. “Looks like they’re headed through Jersey.” But even as she spoke, the dot on the map winked out of existence. 

Clint felt the surge of relief knowing they could track James vanish as both Stark and Nat frowned and began typing furiously. 

“What happened?” asked Steve. 

“Lost the signal,” said Stark, distracted. 

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning, we lost the signal,” repeated Stark but he didn’t bother to look at Steve. “It’s not replying. It’s gone dark.”

Clint felt Cooper reach for his hand, and he looked down at his son’s tired and worried face. 

“Hey,” said Steve, shaking Clint’s shoulder, then in a louder voice, speaking to everyone else. “Focus. It’s like I said. They’re going to want to get him off the grid, fast. What would make it lose signal?”

“Besides the obvious? Going underground,” said Stark.

“Right,” said Steve. “Nat, there has to be something out there. An old S.H.I.E.L.D. base or a Hydra outpost. Or anything they could appropriate.”

“On it,” said Nat, turning back to her screen. 

“And Stark, get around the lack of signal.”

Stark opened his mouth to protest, then clamped it shut, turning back to the computer. “Man’s been in the ice for seventy years, doesn’t even know what a cell phone is, and now he’s an expert.”

“The important thing,” said Steve, ignoring Stark and turning to Clint. “Is that your family is safe. That’s what he wanted.”

Clint felt a stinging in his nose. He glanced at Laura who had some how held on to her diaper bag and was feeding Nathaniel. Pepper was distracting Lila, playing a game. “Not all of my family is safe,” he said, quietly. Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re his family, too. He said so.”

Steve gave a jerky nod, then just kept nodding as he gripped Clint’s shoulder. “Right,” he managed. “You. Fly us to those last coordinates. And get suited up.” He looked down at Cooper. “We’ll find him,” he added, speaking more to Cooper before looking at Clint again. “We’ll find him. And then we can both beat the snot out of him.”

~~~

Bucky became aware of a growing pain in his left shoulder. It started as a dull ache but quickly built into a screaming agony. Insistent pain, waking him violently into thrashing consciousness. He woke into a blank horror.

Heartbeat. Breath. Darkness. Chains rattled. His shoulder was on fire from unbearable pressure. He tried to relieve it, but couldn’t. It only got worse. He tried to punch it with his right hand, but his right hand was tied down, and then he realized his feet were dangling and he was spinning in a tight circle with the constant whine and strain of a metal chain twisting. 

He could just make out his left hand above him as he hung from a chain attached to the ceiling. When he tried to reach his left hand with his right, he saw that his right was chained to the ground, with only a few inches of slack. Big, thick chains. 

It was silent in the dark room, the only sound was his harsh breathing. With a cry, he pulled down with his left and up with his right, trying to break free, screaming in pain. He couldn’t do it, but he didn’t stop and tried again, choking and coughing. 

Then, although he had been looking at his left hand all along, he saw for the first time: stickers on his arm, a fingerless glove, and it all came back. He remembered. 

He remembered Steve eating ice cream, telling him he had a choice. And he remembered Laura and Clint sitting with him at the kitchen table. He remembered safety and family and the weight of Clint in his arms, and the way Laura looked at him when he kissed her. Lila bringing him pictures she’d drawn. Nathaniel’s hearty cry. Cooper showing him his comics. It came back. All of it.

His family was safe. It did not relieve the pain, but it helped him endure it. He calmed down, thinking through the problem. 

He needed leverage to break the chain. With a twist of his wrist, he grabbed hold of it, relieving some pressure but not enough. He swung his legs up, hooking them around the chain. Unable to use his right hand, he yelled as he combined his strength and weight together to try and break the chain, or make it loose, something, hoisting up as high as he could manage before pulling down hard. 

Then, a blinding light filled the room as someone flicked a switch. He squeezed his eyes to slits, trying to see who it was. 

“Shoot him down,” said an unfamiliar voice. 

Before Bucky could fully register the words, a weapon fired and the chain snapped. He fell hard onto the cement floor, crying out as much from the impact as from the sudden, blissful relief of pressure. 

Still chained to the floor by his right hand, he attempted to stand and find his balance.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” said the unknown man.

Bucky froze, squinting at the blurred outline of a man standing several feet away. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, shapes grew more defined. The room came further into focus: a large chamber, not so big as a warehouse but with high ceilings and a lot of open space. It gave off the distinct impression of being far underground. The man stood in front of a set of double doors.

The man wore a dark suit, and had grey hair. He wasn’t alone. There were others standing on either side him. STRIKE team, Bucky assumed. Bucky wrapped the chain around both hands and tried to break it.

“I disagreed with Pierce, you know.” Bucky paused at the mention of Pierce. “I warned him using you for that last mission was risky, but he insisted. Wouldn’t listen, arrogant son of a bitch. Things might have played out differently. Can’t tell you how often in the last two years I wished he had retained control of you. You and I met once. I wonder if you remember.”

Bucky could see the man’s face clearly now: Mitchell Carson. He continued trying to break the chain. “You’re the one ordering the attacks on the Barton family.” 

Carson didn’t smile. Didn’t seem the smiling type. “Well, he kept getting in my way, so yes.”

His tone was indifferent, careless. Bucky remembered overhearing Carson and Pierce talking about Howard Stark the same way, decades ago. _He keeps getting in my way._

“You gave the order to assassinate Howard Stark.”

Carson’s eyebrows lifted. “So you do remember? Interesting.”

Bucky gripped the chain, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do next. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Steve was the one with the talent for speeches and confrontations. Bucky just wanted to kill this guy and get the hell out of there. “Why Barton?” he asked. 

Carson shrugged. “I used to go hunting. It’s not really my sport, but you learn a thing or two. When you’ve got a buck in sight, your shot lined up, you don’t aim for the head. You aim for the heart. Imagine our surprise to find an entire nest of Bartons.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared with disgust. A kill shot to the head was just as effective, and he ached to prove it. “You failed.”

“You would think so.” Carson turned to the man on his right. “Bring it in.”

The man gave an order and the double doors burst open. Several more men wheeled in a large piece of equipment covered with a sheet. 

Bucky realized what was underneath the sheet the second before Carson pulled it off. He never knew its true name. In his head, he’d only ever called it the chair. A cold, screaming panic ripped through his body but he stayed frozen in place.

“We had to bring it out of storage,” said Carson, conversationally. One man took several thick cables attached to the rear of the chair and snaked them over to an electrical box and a collection of generators near a bank of computers Bucky hadn’t noticed before. Another man snapped the arm rests open and arranged the headpieces, readying the chair for an occupant. A second later, the electrical switch was thrown and a high-pitched whine filled the room.

“Now, we can do this the hard way,” said Carson, turning to face him, his men aiming their weapons directly at Bucky. “Or you can submit like the good Winter Soldier we know you to be.”

A deadening, sick fear weighed Bucky down. The metal chair shone dully in the light, a representative of every horror from the last seventy years threatening to take away all that he had gained. It pulled at him, like gravity. It sucked him in. There was a high-pitched whining in his head to match the electrical charge surging through the chair.

“That’s right,” said Carson, holding out one arm to guide him. 

Bucky took a step. The metal chains fastened to his wrists clinked, and he looked down to see his two hands, one of them gloved, and the stickers on his arm. The words “one day at a time” floated back to him. He raised his eyes and saw Carson watching with an undisguised greedy, arrogant expression. Bucky straightened, his heart pounding in his chest as he made a choice.

“You’ll have to come and get me, if you dare,” said Bucky. 

Carson’s eyes sharpened with revulsion. “Take him,” he ordered.

The STRIKE team advanced but Bucky went low, punching the chain attached to the cement floor with his metal hand. It cracked, cement chips flying. He whipped the chain around, knocking out two men. Taking advantage of the STRIKE team’s momentary surprise, Bucky charged for Carson, swinging the chain like a whip, sparks spraying everywhere.

“Stop him,” yelled Carson, backing away. 

Two men fired tasers and Bucky went down, arching as the high voltage surged through his body. When it stopped, he struggled to rise, but four more men grabbed hold of his limbs, dragging him to the chair. 

Bucky fought. He used all of his strength, kicking and dragging his weight down, managing to get free, but they fired a second taser, and then a third. He elbowed one assailant hard in the face, snapping another’s neck, but two more took their places and he was hauled bodily over to the chair as he yelled, the chains still dragging from his hands. They restrained his legs, then his right arm, then four men together held his left arm down and locked the metal clamp in place. 

He yelled through gritted teeth, straining to break free, focusing all of his rage on Carson. Carson approached, although not too close. Bucky panted, spitting. 

“You will forget their faces,” said Carson. “You will forget their names. You won’t know who they are and what they mean to you when you kill them.”

Bucky felt a return of that deadening cold weight. “No,” he said, through a strained throat. “Steve stopped me before. He’ll do it again.”

“Maybe,” said Carson. “But maybe not before you eliminate Barton.” Carson glanced at the tech that was now waiting near Bucky’s side. “Continue.”

Bucky cried out, clamping his mouth shut to refuse the bite guard, shaking his head, shaking the chair as much as he could. They forced his mouth open, then yanked his head back, the two separate pieces clamped close. He didn’t stop yelling, spraying spit, his eyes wide with panic. He willed that he might die, that something might go wrong with the chair and it would fry his brain to the point of no return. He prayed for this to happen just as the doors to the room burst open and Captain America’s shield ricocheted and bounced off the walls. Carson turned, and an almost comical look of surprise crossed his face as an arrow pierced through his left eye socket and he collapsed to the ground. 

The STRIKE team fired their automatic guns into the open doorway, but one by one they dropped as more arrows flew. Then, an entire wall exploded. Iron Man stepped through the hole. He took one look around, bullets dinging harmlessly off his armor, before saying, “No games today, boys.” Small missiles shot out of his suit and the STRIKE team collectively fell as one.

Bucky looked at Clint as he rushed over. He couldn’t believe that he was here. Then, he looked at Steve’s worried face, and tears began to blur his vision. 

“Christ,” said Clint, reaching first for the headpieces, taking the mouth guard out. He looked around to see how to release Bucky’s arms and his legs. 

“Step back,” said Steve. Clint moved out of the way and Steve jabbed his shield at the metal restraints. They each cracked open. A moment later, Steve and Clint held him by both arms, lifting him out of the chair. 

Bucky couldn’t stop looking from one to the other. He was dimly aware of activity around him, of voices and movement. Orders were being given. Individuals approached and then quietly withdrew. He’d grabbed a fistful of Steve’s uniform and leaned on Clint. He couldn’t get his breathing under control. He choked as he tried to speak, vomit rising. He began to shake. 

“Shh,” said Clint, taking his face between his hands. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We got here in time. We got here with fucking seconds to spare but we got here. Nothing happened, James, you’re okay.”

“He would have… he would have ordered me to kill our family,” he said, losing his voice. Clint’s eyes were dark pools. Bucky then looked at Steve. “You would have stopped me, like before. You wouldn’t let me do that. You wouldn’t.”

But Steve shook his head, his blue eyes smiling even shadowed with sadness. “I wouldn’t. But Bucky, I didn’t stop you before. You stopped you before.” Bucky didn’t understand and Steve cupped his head. “ _You_ stopped you. And I’d bet my goddamned life, if it came to it, you’d stop yourself again.”

Bucky started crying. A sob escaped, and then he couldn’t stop. Years of grief poured out of him. He had no idea how long he cried, still holding a fistful of Steve’s uniform, unable to stand on his own with his face buried against Clint’s neck.

Eventually he let Steve go, but Clint remained with him as the rescue operation whittled down into final mop up. He wasn’t quite ready yet to return to the quinjet, to see Laura and the kids. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Someone cut the chains from his wrists. 

Tony, free of his suit, approached, carrying a large, unfamiliar weapon. Carson’s body was being wheeled out of the room. They stood -- Clint, Tony, and him together -- and watched it pass. 

“I did a little research,” said Tony, speaking to Bucky. “I don’t remember him. Howard never had him around the house. But… he had a standing golfing date with Carson. Every Saturday. For years.” He fell silent, looking down at the weapon in his hands. “Good riddance,” he said, simply, then handed the weapon to Bucky.

“What’s this?” he asked. 

“It’s a prototype S.H.I.E.L.D. developed a few years ago. I got Fury to give it to me. It’s been stored on the quinjet, in case, I don’t know, aliens come back or something. It should do the job. If you’d like to do the honors,” he said, waving at the chair that hadn’t as yet been touched by the Avengers tech teams. 

Bucky realized what Tony was giving him, then he looked at Clint, and at Tony, then at Steve who’d appeared to stand on Bucky’s other side. Bucky took a second to figure out how the weapon worked. He aimed at the chair, and fired. It blasted apart, leaving only a heap of twisted metal. 

~~~  
Epilogue

Bucky woke on the couch in the living room where he had fallen asleep. A familiar humming filtered through his consciousness, and he looked over to see Lila sitting on the floor in front of the couch, her usual array of coloring books, paints, and construction paper spread around her. With a small shift of his head, he noticed Cooper entertaining Nathaniel while also trying to read through the new stack of comic books Bucky had brought home. 

He relaxed back down on the couch, and listened.

In the week since the rescue op, Bucky had stayed at the farm with Laura and the kids, while Clint took the lead with the investigation into Carson. He and Steve and even Tony sent Bucky updates on what the data recovery from the rescue op revealed. No one thought this was the end of Hydra, but it seemed that the threat to Clint and his family, at least from that quarter, was at an end. He didn’t lessen the security, but was beginning to feel like he could breathe.

Outside, he heard a tractor. Laura liked to get out and work the small home field. She rarely got much of a chance to do it. As it was already past planting season, he assumed she was breaking ground for next year. 

The clock on the mantel ticked. It was getting on close to four in the afternoon. “You kids hungry?” he asked.

Lila nodded vigorously, while Cooper looked up from his comic book, seemed to consider the question, then said very seriously, “I could eat.”

Bucky suppressed a smile, knowing Cooper must have picked that up from Clint or from someone at headquarters. 

“All right, come on.” He rose from the couch, picked up Nathaniel, and headed for the kitchen, Cooper and Lila following. Lila brought one of her coloring books with her, and settled at the kitchen table as he put Nathaniel in his high chair. 

Cooper opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. After the rescue op, when Bucky had finally returned to the quinjet, he’d taken Cooper into a big hug, trying not to cry all over the boy. “You saved my life,” he’d said to him. 

Bucky stood behind Cooper as he, too, stared at the refrigerator’s contents. He started pulling out leftovers. Cooper helped, and in less than five minutes they had food on the table. 

“Your dad’s coming home tonight,” he said. “Excited to see him?”

Lila clapped and danced in her chair as she ate. Cooper nodded. “Are you going to stay when he’s here?” he asked Bucky.

The question hung in the air. Both Cooper and Lila paused in their eating to look at him. Even Nathaniel was looking at him, meditatively chewing on a cooked piece of spaghetti. 

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked. He had every intention of returning to headquarters eventually, wanting to work. He had a desire to fight beside Steve and Clint and the others in a way he hadn’t had before, but he wasn’t yet ready to leave. The week with Laura had been a respite, desperate and comforting at once. He didn’t want to leave her, and he missed Clint more than he could put into words. 

Before they could answer, a voice spoke from near the front door. “How about James stays as long as he wants to?”

Both Lila and Cooper jumped from the table, shouting, “Daddy!” at the top of their lungs, running to hug their father. More slowly, but no less surprised, Bucky rose from the table, realizing the tractor must have masked the sound of the quinjet. 

Clint was down on his knees, getting a good look at his children when Bucky noticed further movement on the front steps, and Steve entered. “Hi,” said Steve, grinning.

“Hi,” Bucky answered, knowing he must have a bewildered smile on his face, looking from Steve to Clint. “We weren’t expecting you till later.”

“Yeah, uh,” said Clint, standing up, and much to Bucky’s complete embarrassment, kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I mentioned Laura was cooking, and then Steve said he was hungry, and then Sam asked what she was cooking, and I said ‘hell if I know’. I mean, how am I supposed to know? But then Nat called me a lousy husband, and that somehow morphed into an hour-long debate about what Laura might cook for dinner. Then everyone got hungry.”

There were footsteps on the porch and Natasha entered with Sam, then right behind came Wanda, the Vision, Rhodes, and finally Tony with Pepper. Lila ran to Nat, and jumped into her arms. Everyone started talking at once then simultaneously stopped when Laura came in from the garden through the back door, holding her sun hat in her hands, staring at everyone. 

“Hi, honey,” said Clint, with sheepish charm. “I brought company.”

Laura’s grin was slow to cross her face. “Of course you did,” she said before kissing him, then moving further into the crowd to hug Pepper and Natasha. 

Conversation resumed, rising to full volume. Steve knocked Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t mind?” he asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “’Course I don’t mind.” And because he knew it would happen anyway, he pulled Steve into a hug and said into Steve’s ear, “Punk.”

He was rewarded with a big bright Steve Rogers smile.

Pepper actually cooked dinner, but Laura insisted on helping, while Tony served as bartender. Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table nursing a beer, watching the others mingle. Wanda had appropriated Nathaniel, and seemed completely fascinated by him as they played quietly with his toys. Nathaniel beamed shy smiles at her, clearly smitten. Tony and Rhodes and Sam were having an animated conversation about something he couldn’t quite catch in all the noise, but whatever it was had Rhodes standing up doing some kind of impersonation, Tony actively protesting, and Sam looking like he might have a heart attack from laughing. Steve and Clint were on the couch, talking earnestly, with Cooper near by reading his comic books. 

Lila had spent a total of ten minutes staring at the Vision. The Vision, just as curious about her as she was about him, eventually held out his hand to her. They were now sitting together at the other end of the kitchen table drawing a picture. 

Natasha pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, drinking from her own beer bottle. Their eyes met, and he nodded toward the unlikely pair at the end of the table. “I think I’ve been replaced,” he said, amused.

She snorted. “You get used to it.”

They grinned, and knocked their bottles together, otherwise content to sit in friendly silence, watching the others. She turned contemplative, and he wondered if she were thinking of the missing Dr. Banner. Without knowing Banner at all, Bucky felt great sympathy for him, knowing what it was like to be alone.

“You know, of course, the real reason why we invited ourselves over?” she asked after a long moment.

Bucky frowned slightly, and shook his head.

“We were worried about you.” 

He gaped, then felt a kind of bright, hot unworthiness that left him blinking at her helplessly. 

She smiled with her customary smirk, and patted his hand. “You’ll get used to that too.”

Half an hour later, dinner was served. They added smaller tables and stole chairs from the living room, and soon everyone was sitting, the food set down by Pepper, who then took her own seat. The kids had been allowed to stay up late, but Nathaniel slept in Wanda’s arms, and Lila was already nodding off, curled in Natasha’s lap.

Laura, on Bucky’s right, reached underneath the table to hold his hand. Clint, on Bucky’s left, leaned in and brushed his nose against Bucky’s ear. A curl of anticipation wound low and warm around Bucky’s lower back, a promise for later, when everyone was gone and the children were asleep. 

Steve lifted up his glass. “A toast,” he said, and everyone raised a glass.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://hafital.tumblr.com/), where I mostly reblog things that make me laugh. 
> 
> Please [reblog](http://hafital.tumblr.com/post/140630631635/twelve-times-damned-twelve-times-hopeful) if you're so inclined. Thank you for reading!


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